


The Good Ol' Days

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bullying, Canon Ace Character, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Homophobic Slurs, Hopeful Ending, Jon is an annoying kid, Jon is impressed by Martin's skills with a microwave, Jon is still mostly his season 1 self at first, Kid Fic, M/M, Neglect, Romance, at least for a while, before they have to be adults, but don't worry he'll come around a lot sooner than he does in canon lol, but i just want to give these poor children some time to be children, not just a bunch of random vignettes, strictly enforced gender roles of the nineties, there is actually gonna be a plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 107,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: When Jon moves in with his grandmother he becomes fast (if somewhat reluctant) friends with one of the neighborhood kids, a boy named Martin.Years later, they find each other again at the Magnus Institute, and whatever mysteries they uncover there, they will solve them together.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1277
Kudos: 1127





	1. In the Beginning

When Jon was told that his mother had died and he was going to be sent to live with his grandmother, he wasn’t particularly bothered. His mother had spent so much time working when Jon was young that he barely knew her, and while he was sad that she was dead, he wasn’t devastated by the loss. He remembered meeting his grandmother once, and from what he could recall, the woman seemed to be alright. And it isn’t as though Jon had any real friends or connections that made him hesitant to move across the country.

He walked into his grandmother’s house for the first time, and slowly looked around. “This looks like an old person’s house,” he observed out loud.

“How strange, seeing as it is the house of an old person,” his grandmother answered dryly. “Come on, I’ve cleared out the room upstairs for you.”

As he walked into the room that was to be his, Jon couldn’t help noticing that it did not look at all like it had been cleared out. There were stacks of various things piled up all over the edges of the room, and after some brief exploration, he found that half the dresser drawers were full of random items. He wanted to complain, but he also didn’t want to upset his grandmother so soon into their new living arrangement. 

Luckily, Jon didn’t have too many things that he needed to fit into the cramped space, and he decided that there wouldn’t be time to be annoyed about living in a room full of someone else’s stuff if he found other places to pass the time. So as soon as he finished unpacking, he took off to explore his new neighborhood.

As he strolled down the street, ignoring the strange looks that he got from a couple of the adults that he passed by, he tried to memorize everything that he walked past. Jon knew that he had never been great with directions, and he didn’t want to get lost while he was still new. 

So he was hardly paying attention to the sidewalk in front of him, and ended up colliding with someone else. They both fell to the ground, and Jon grumbled some things under his breath that definitely would have earned him a disapproving look if his mom was there. 

The other boy managed to get back to his feet first, and then reached down one hand to help Jon up. After a moment of hesitation, Jon accepted the help, and found himself easily tugged upright. He immediately pulled his hand free, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You should’ve been paying more attention to where you were going,” he said with a scowl.

The other boy gave him a sheepish look and a small shrug. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was distracted. Look-” he scooped up a comic book that had fallen to the ground. “Have you seen this one yet? It’s brand new.” 

There was a big grin on his face, as if a brand new comic book was something to brag about even though he surely hadn’t been the one to make it. Jon narrowed his eyes. “That’s no excuse for being clumsy.”

There was a long awkward pause, and just as Jon decided that it should be acceptable for him to move on, the other boy cleared his throat and spoke again. “Are you new round here? ‘S just that I haven’t seen you around before.”

Jon sighed as he sensed that he was getting trapped into an entire conversation. “Yes, I just moved today to live with my grandmother because my parents are both dead.”

Hopefully that would be enough to shut the boy up. Though perhaps Jon should have known better despite only knowing the boy for a couple of minutes. “I’m sorry. Oh- I’m Martin!” He stuck one hand out.

As if manners had been trained into him since birth (which they definitely hadn’t been, at least not as far as Jon could recall) he accepted the handshake. “Jon,” he responded begrudgingly. 

By that point, Jon figured that he could only escape if he physically ran away, and even then he was afraid that Martin might pursue him. He wasn’t sure why his glare wasn’t scaring the boy off, but he resigned himself to whatever it was that Martin wanted to talk about. “Have you ever thought about two boys getting married?”

Jon shrugged. “Why would you ask that?”

Martin waved his comic book around again. “‘Cause in this issue, Evan and Shane get married. I dunno if you’ve read the series, but it takes place in another world, and in it boys are allowed to get married to boys, and girls are allowed to get married to girls. My mum said it’s all rubbish and that it’s a bad influence, but I think it’s cool. I think I wanna get married to a boy when I’m older, what about you?”

“We’re far too young to be thinking about marriage,” Jon said through gritted teeth. He wasn’t sure why the topic made him suddenly feel uncomfortable, though he was pretty sure that it wasn’t about the fact that it was two boys or anything, it was just marriage itself that he wasn’t fond of the idea of. “Now if you’re quite done bothering me-”

Martin shook his head, not having the audacity to look even remotely insulted. “I have the whole series at home! You should read them if you haven’t already!” Then he grabbed Jon’s hand and started tugging him down the sidewalk without even asking permission.

“I’m pretty sure this is kidnapping,” Jon pointed out.

Martin laughed, as if Jon was making a clever joke, and kept going. Jon tried to tug himself free, but Martin was unfairly stronger than him, and Jon gave up. He decided that it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know other kids in the neighborhood, even if he did wish that it wasn’t this particular kid. Even if Jon did have to admit that it was almost impressive that Martin seemed immune to everything that had stopped Jon from making friends in his old home. 

After a few minutes Jon was dragged into a dingy looking flat, and into a bedroom. It was fairly neat, though that seemed in part thanks to a lack of stuff rather than an excess of cleanliness. “You live in a dump,” Jon tried as a last ditch attempt to make Martin angry. 

Martin just laughed again. “I know, it’s great, right?” Then he finally let go of Jon’s hand so that he could kneel down and pull a plastic bin out from underneath his bed. It seemed to take a lot of effort to drag even a short way because of all the comic books lined up inside, and Jon found himself feeling almost impressed by Martin’s strength, even if he was still a bit envious of it. 

Even though Jon quickly grew bored of looking at Martin’s comic books, he couldn’t help being slightly affected by just how enthusiastic Martin was about them. It was hard to say whether it was because he loved the comic books that much, or if he was just excited to have someone to talk to about them. 

Jon didn’t even realize how much time had passed until his stomach let out a loud growl, and he sat up from where he’d been hanging his head over the edge of Martin’s bed. Martin pushed himself up from where he’d been lying on his stomach on the floor. “Are you hungry? I can make you something if you want.”

“You can cook?” Jon asked with a sliver of doubt in his voice. Afterall, Martin had to be about the same age as Jon, right? 

Martin just gave him a proud grin. “Yup! Come on!” He grabbed Jon’s hand to pull him into a tiny kitchen, and Jon started to detect a theme. Martin was apparently a very grabby person. He watched as Martin dragged a chair over to the fridge so that he could step on it and reach the freezer, which he had to duck out of the way to avoid being smacked by when he swung it open. “Let’s see… we’ve got mac and cheese, beef stew, cheese pizza, and chocolate ice cream.” 

The ice cream sounded good, but it wouldn’t let Jon test out Martin’s cooking ability. “Mac and cheese,” he decided. He watched as Martin pulled out two little boxes and then opened them to stick the plastic trays into the microwave. After a couple of minutes he stopped the timer so that he could peel the top layers off the trays and stir the contents, and then closed the microwave door to let the timer run the rest of its time.

When there was a second left to go Martin opened the microwave again, and pulled out both trays. He carefully carried them over to a small table and put them down on the cloth mats. Then he fetched two forks to stick into the steaming noodles. He poured some apple juice into two plastic cups with faded logos on the sides, and set those down next to the trays. “Ta-da!” 

Alright, so Jon had to admit that he was rather impressed. He waited for Martin to drag the chair back over to the table, and then both of them sat down and ate. When they were done, Martin threw the empty trays into the overflowing bin, and then took the forks and cups to the sink to wash them.

Wanting to do his part to help out, Jon grabbed a paper towel and dried the things Martin washed. When they were done, Jon sighed. “I should probably be getting home. Thanks for dinner, and for…” he decided that he shouldn’t thank Martin for showing off his comic books, in case it encouraged the boy to do it again. “For talking to me,” he settled on after a moment of thought. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Martin told him while beaming. Jon was pretty sure that nobody had ever looked so happy to spend time with him, and it made him have a strange twisting feeling in his stomach. “Do you need help getting home?”

“No,” Jon scoffed immediately. Then he left without another word, and it wasn’t until he was outside the building in the quickly dimming evening that he realized he had no idea where he was, and hadn’t been able to pay enough attention to the route that had been taken while he was being kidnapped. 

He was probably going to be lost forever, and he was going to have to hunt trash cans for food, and then he was going to be mistaken for a racoon and someone was going to shoot him and- 

There was the sound of a door opening behind him, and then Martin’s cheerful voice rang out. “I know you don’t need my help, but I thought it would be nice to spend a few more minutes together. Come on, I’ll take you back to where we met.” He grabbed Jon’s hand to lead the way.

Jon knew that Martin had only said it like that to save Jon’s pride, but he appreciated it all the same. And for the first time that day, he gave a slight squeeze and actually held onto Martin’s hand in return. He mostly zoned out as Martin babbled on about something or another, but in the end, he had to admit that it was rather… nice. Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a friend, but he was pretty sure that that’s what had happened today (even if it had been somewhat against his will). 

When they reached the spot that they’d initially bumped into each other, Jon was pretty sure he could make it back to his grandmother’s house without help, and he hurried off after a mumbled ‘thanks’. When he got home, he found his grandmother snoring in her bed, clearly unworried about the fact he’d been out all day. It was nice to know that he had so much freedom, but he couldn’t help feeling just the tiniest pang of longing in his chest. He was sure that he didn’t miss his parents, at least not as more than a concept, so what was it that he wanted?


	2. The First Hug

Jon looked at the packet of papers that had just been dropped down on the table in front of him, then he looked up at his grandmother, who had already moved past him and made her way over to the fridge. “What’s this?”

“The admission papers to your new school.”

Jon narrowed his eyes, and couldn’t hide the betrayal that he felt. “School?” He said it in the same tone that he might say ‘poop’ or ‘marriage’. “Why do I have to go to school? I already know a bunch of things.” It’s not as though he particularly enjoyed hanging around in his grandmother’s house, but he did enjoy the freedom to wander and explore and do whatever he wanted to. 

His grandmother didn’t seem to care about what Jon wanted, though. “You’re old enough to start school, and I’m certainly not going to homeschool you. Besides, maybe it’ll be good for you. You need to socialize more with other kids your age. Or at least, that’s what your counselor said.” 

Jon had known from the beginning that that damn councilor wasn’t on his side the way she claimed to be. She had told him that she was just there to help him cope with the loss of his parents and figure out how to fit in with his life after so many big changes, but she always pulled Jon’s grandmother aside after their sessions so that they could whisper about him behind his back. But he would address the issue of his councilor later, since that seemed like it would be a more difficult one to win. “I have friends,” he insisted. “I’ve got Martin.”

His grandmother scrunched up her nose at the name. “You always complain about how much you don’t like him.”

“No I don’t,” Jon protested. Though he could understand how it came across like that. He didn’t complain about not liking Martin; he generally just complained about how Martin was an idiot and useless at a lot of things, and unfairly strong. His grandmother didn’t like Martin for sure, though. They’d only met once, but it had been immediately obvious what a bad idea it was, and Jon had never invited Martin over again. He still didn’t know why his grandmother didn’t like the other boy, but he didn’t think he’d get a straight answer even if he asked. “I promise I’ll stay out of your hair and read lots of books and learn lots of things, but don’t send me to school.” From everything he’d seen in the movies, school was a bad place for someone like Jon, who was small and wore glasses.

His grandmother just rolled her eyes and went back to rummaging around in the fridge. “You’re going to school, and that’s the end of it. Now I know that you have fairly neat handwriting for a brat, so fill out those forms. I’m sure you know more of the stuff on those than I do.”

Jon shoved the papers aside and then crossed his arms over his chest. “If you want me to go to school so bad, then you fill them out yourself.”

There was a short moment of silence, where Jon thought that maybe he’d actually won, and then his grandmother slammed the fridge shut loudly enough to make Jon jump in his seat. She stomped over to where Jon was sitting, and reached down to grab his wrist, squeezing tightly enough to be quite painful, though Jon just grit his teeth together and said nothing. “I didn’t have to take you in, you know. I could have just left you to the system where you’d probably fade away after being bounced around from one family to another that doesn’t want you because of what a rotten brat you can be. I already raised three children, and I never signed up to raise more than that, but here we are. And the only way we’re going to get through this is if we work together. Now you’re going to go to school come September, and you’re going to work hard and get good grades and set yourself up for a promising future. Is that understood?” 

Even though he didn’t want them to, Jon could feel tears build up in the corners of his eyes. “Fine,” he bit out. His grandmother let go of him, and he immediately jumped to his feet and ran to the front door, slamming it with extra force once he was outside. His grandmother didn’t even try to chase after him.

Jon wandered around for a while, and didn’t even realize he’d been heading anywhere in particular until he found himself standing outside of Martin’s building. Apparently his feet had memorized the way to get there after he’d gone so many times in the past couple of weeks. 

But Jon had never shown up unprompted before. What if Martin was busy, or hanging out with someone else, or just wasn’t in the mood to deal with Jon? (Most people seemed to not have a high tolerance for dealing with Jon, though he wasn’t sure he could really blame them for that). 

Before he could turn and head back, though, he heard Martin’s voice calling out from high up above. “Jon! Jon is that you?”

Jon tilted his head back and saw Martin’s head sticking out a window on the second floor. “Who else would I be, Martin?” he asked, voice dripping with annoyance. 

Like always, Martin didn’t seem to be aware of Jon’s feelings. “I’m so glad that you’re here! I was going to go looking for you tomorrow to show you my new comic book!” 

“I have no interest in-!” Jon started shouting, but then cut himself off when he realized that a few people were staring at him. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have a shouted conversation while he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He let out a long sigh, and then waited by the front door of the building. It only took a minute before it swung open and Martin stood there, grinning at Jon. 

Martin practically dragged Jon up the stairs to the second floor, just like he always did, and Jon knew that the grumpy look on his face was really more of a token protest at this point. It may have only been a few weeks, but he’d already gotten used to being pulled in whatever direction Martin wanted to drag him in. 

It wasn’t until they were up in Martin’s flat and Martin had let go that Jon realized how much his arm ached. He let out a small gasp of pain before he could stop himself, and then crossed his arms over his chest to hide the darkening bruise. “So you got a new comic?”

Normally, the moment one of his comics were mentioned, Martin was lost in conversation as he went on and on about them. But this time, Martin just narrowed his eyes, and gave Jon a long look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jon grumbled. 

But stupid Martin wouldn’t just let it go. “You look sad,” Martin said in a quiet voice. “Did something happen?” He scrunched up his nose as he thought for a moment. “Is it- is it about your mum and dad?”

“No, I’m fine!” Jon snapped. “Just leave it be.” 

He should have known that that wouldn’t scare Martin off, though. Jon wasn’t sure if there was anything in the world that Martin was actually scared of. He took a small step closer to Jon, but didn’t reach out to try and touch him. “You’re crying. People cry when they’re sad. What happened?” Jon pressed his lips together and looked down at the floor, stubbornly refusing to meet Martin’s gaze. He didn’t like the look of worry in Martin’s eyes. It wasn’t a look that he was used to seeing directed towards him. Several minutes passed by in complete silence, and then Martin slowly reached out, giving Jon plenty of time to jerk back, but he just stayed stubbornly still. Martin took Jon’s hand and tugged it out, getting a good look at the entire arm. “Did you… did you fall? My mum says I’m a real klutz and I bump into stuff all the time.”

Jon was pretty sure that whatever had happened, it wasn’t something that he was supposed to talk about. He knew that staying with his grandmother was his best option, and in the end, he knew that she did care about him. It wasn’t her fault that he was a small and weak child. “Yeah,” he finally answered. “I bumped into something.”

He didn’t put much effort into sounding convincing, since he wasn’t sure he had any energy left to do so, and it didn’t look like Martin believed him. Then he watched in surprise as Martin carefully lifted up Jon’s arm and pressed a gentle kiss against the bruise. Then he dropped Jon’s arm immediately, face getting red. “I heard that kissing where it hurts makes it feel better. Did it help?”

Honestly, Jon couldn’t tell if Martin was an absolute moron, or a secret genius. But he didn’t want to disappoint his only friend, so he just let out a soft sigh, and ignored the slight throbbing in his arm. “Yeah, it’s all better now.”

Martin beamed. “Great! Now I can show you my new comic book!” He didn’t grab Jon’s arm this time, just rushed into his room and waited for Jon to follow after him. Jon hesitated for a moment, and then trudged into Martin’s room. He zoned out while Martin blabbed on about his latest comic, and then when they were done they ate dinner.

Normally that’s about when Jon would head home, but this time he paused by the front door to the flat. “Martin… would it trouble you terribly if I stayed over for the night?”

Martin tilted his head. “You wanna have a sleepover? That would be so cool! Let me just go ask my mum!” 

Now that he thought about it, Jon had never actually met Martin’s mum before, he’d only heard her mentioned. He waited in the living room as Martin went to one of the rooms that always had a closed door, and knocked eagerly on it before pulling it open and slipping in. 

Jon shifted on his feet for a few minutes, feeling awkward. He glanced over at the phone on the wall in the kitchen, and wondered if he should call his grandmother to let him know about his plans. He didn’t come to a decision before Martin emerged, grinning brightly enough that even Jon had trouble finding it to be annoying. “You can stay! You can borrow my extra ‘jamas if you want. Unless you brought your own?” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “And where exactly would I be keeping them? I don’t even have my jacket.”

Martin just shrugged. “So what do you wanna do now? I’ve never had a sleepover before!”

It’s not as though Jon had ever had a sleepover before either, but clearly Martin thought that he was some kind of expert, and Jon didn’t want to fail at this task. So he thought about what he’d seen on TV and in books. “We’re supposed to eat ice cream and watch telly,” he said decisively. 

There were no arguments from Martin. “Alright, you pick a show and I’ll get the ice cream!” He dragged a chair over to stand on so that he could reach the freezer, while Jon sank down onto the lump couch and fished the remote out from in between the cushions. He flipped through the channels until he got to a random program about tiger sharks, and left it. 

Martin plopped down next to Jon, and scooted closer so that the sides of their legs were touching, and he could rest the carton of ice cream partially on both of them. He handed Jon one spoon and kept the other for himself. “Ooh sharks, that’s cool.” 

For some reason, Jon found himself staring at Martin more than the telly. If Martin was aware of that, he didn’t seem to mind. He just watched the program and made the occasional comment about how some of the sharks looked so cool.   
,,,

Jon must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he slowly woke up, aware that he was on top of something warm and squishy. He opened his eyes and saw that he was slumped over Martin, who had his arms wrapped around Jon. The empty ice cream carton had fallen to the floor at some point, letting a few smears of sticky ice cream seep onto the carpet. 

It took a moment, but then Jon realized that he’d been woken up by the sound of someone knocking loudly on the front door. He had to struggle to get free, because apparently Martin did not want to let go of him, but he managed to succeed and make his way over to the front door. 

He wasn’t sure what the rules were about answering the door in someone else’s home, but Jon got the feeling that whoever was there, they were there for him. He started towards the front door, but then someone else barrelled through the flat. “I’m coming!” a grumpy voice snarled before violently yanking the door open.

Jon settled back on top of Martin, but looked over at the door. He saw two police standing out in the hallway. “Are you Mrs. Blackwood?”

“What do you want?” Her voice was rough and it sounded like it had to be painful for her to talk. Maybe that’s why Jon had never been introduced to her.

The other officer frowned. “We were called by a Mrs. Isabelle Sims. She said that her grandson is missing, and then said that we might find him here.”

“I don’t know any Sims,” Mrs Blackwood told them in a tone that made it clear that she just wanted them to leave.

Jon didn’t want Martin’s mum to get in trouble because of him, so he popped up and hurried over to the door. “I’m here,” he said quietly, hoping not to wake up Martin, who had had a very peaceful look on his face while he slept. “I was sleeping over.”

Mrs Blackwood narrowed her eyes. “I had no idea the brat was here.” 

Jon refrained from pointing out that she’d given permission for him to stay the night. Instead, he just looked up at the officers. “I musta forgot to tell my grandma that I was staying over. Just trying to hang out with Martin as much as I can before school starts, you know?”

One of the officers reached out, and Jon automatically took her hand. She paused when she saw the bruise on his arm. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Luckily the bruise was more of a blob than a handprint, and now that he’d gotten some sleep and some ice cream, he had enough energy to cheerfully say, “I accidentally ran into the wall.” Then he frowned as another thought occurred to him. Why had his grandmother sent the police instead of just coming here herself. “Am I in trouble? For not telling Grandma that I was staying the night? Are you here to arrest me?”

The officer gave him a friendly smile. “You’re not going to be arrested. Your grandmother was just worried about you. Since you’re already awake, maybe it would be best if we could just give you a ride home now?”

Jon sighed. “Yeah, I just need to tell Martin that I’m going.” He went over to the couch and reached out to shake Martin’s shoulder, but then he saw that Martin’s eyes were already wide open. “Guess I’m going home for now. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

Martin shifted to sit up, and spoke in a very quiet voice. “You don’t hafta go if you don’t wanna. If you need to stay here-?”

Jon shook his head. “No, it’s alright, I’m fine now. Being here… helped. Thank you, Martin. You’re- you’re a good friend.” Then he surprised both of them by suddenly pulling Martin into a hug. Jon pulled back quickly, ready to apologize, but then he saw the big smile on Martin’s face, and decided that a stray hug was alright. He hurried over to the door again, and then let himself be led out of the building and into a police car, which drove him back home. 

When they got there, Jon’s grandmother hurried out and gave him a big hug, but all Jon could think about was that it didn’t feel nearly as good as hugging Martin had felt.


	3. Old School Blues

Jon was used to having trouble with other children, even those around the same age as him. Or maybe especially those ones? All he knew was that something about him was apparently awful enough to always repel any potential friends away from him. Martin was an exception to the rule, and Jon had foolishly let himself forget about that. So even though he should have known what to expect from school, he still found himself going home disappointed after his first day.

He shuffled inside the house, and dragged his feet to the kitchen, where he was most likely to find his grandmother. She barely glanced up from the ancient looking cookbook she was reading from. “Make any new friends?” she asked in a tone that indicated how little she actually cared about the answer. 

Jon took in a deep breath, and then heaved out such a long sigh that it left him feeling just the slightest bit light-headed. “No,” he admitted through clenched teeth, annoyed that the woman had immediately honed in on the thing that he was most upset about at the moment. It’s not as though he tried to scare everyone away. He had no idea what it was about him that made him so dislikeable to other people.

The real mystery, though, was why Jon even cared. He didn’t need any friends, not when he had so many books to read, and Martin to talk to when he occasionally craved physical contact with another human being. And he had his grandmother for… well whatever it was that guardians were supposed to do. So what difference did it make if Jon found himself unable to make friends at school? (Surely there was something wrong with him, for nobody to ever want to be around him.)

“I don’t want to go to school anymore,” Jon announced in the most confident voice that he could muster. From the way his grandmother startled slightly, it was obvious she’d assumed he had already left the room. “I have given the matter serious thought and consideration, and I have spent a day at school to see for myself what all the fuss is about, and I can safely say that it is not for me. Thanks for the opportunity, but I am done there.”

Instead of taking him seriously, which Jon honestly hadn’t expected her to do, his grandmother just let out a loud snort. “You’re a funny kid. Wonder why you can’t make friends with the other brats your age?”

Jon scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I could make plenty of friends, I just don’t want to. Don’t see the point.”

For some reason, that’s what seemed to finally get his grandmother’s attention. She looked up from her book, though she didn’t even set it aside. “Why? Because you’ve got the Blackwood boy?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you like Martin? He’s” _a good friend_ , Jon thought to himself. “Nice,” he finished out loud.

There was a pause, and then his grandmother let out a long sigh, like she’d been terribly inconvenienced. “That boy comes from bad stock. He’s going to disappoint you someday.”

“No he won’t. If anything, I’ll disappoint him!”

His grandmother laughed, and nodded. “Well that was never in doubt.” Then she glanced at the clock on the wall before slowly dragging her eyes back over to Jon. “Now go find something to do. I don’t need to see you again until dinner time.” 

Jon dropped his backpack off in his room first, and then left to head to Martin’s. He had nearly four hours, which was plenty of time to see his (only) friend, even with the half hour walk both ways. It wasn’t until he was halfway there that it occurred to him that Martin might not be home from school yet. The two of them went to different schools despite living so close to each other, and Martin had mentioned something about being enrolled in an after school program, though he hadn’t mentioned when it would be over. 

Jon let out a sigh of defeat, and then sank down so he was sitting on the curb. His legs were short enough that he could kick them all the way out without worrying about getting hit by a car, and he swung his legs back and forth as he leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky. 

For just a moment, so short that he must have imagined it, Jon thought that he could see the sky looking back at him.   
,,,

“-and then they all blew up, and the day was saved!” Martin stretched his arms out to represent the exploding zombies, and then he plopped down onto his bed as he stared at Jon with a big grin, waiting for him to applaud, or maybe point out how unrealistic as a concept zombies were.

But Jon had barely paid any attention to Martin’s story (which was more unusual after several months of friendship). He’d been too focused on Martin’s demeanor. To anyone who didn’t know him very well, they’d probably think that there was nothing wrong, and that Martin was acting as bright and annoyingly chipper as ever.

Jon did know Martin, though, and he didn’t understand that strange look in his friend’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” Jon knew himself well enough to know that he didn’t have the ability to figure out for himself what the problem was, but he needed to know. 

Martin didn’t even try to deny that there was something wrong. The question made his shoulders hunch, and he seemed to shrink down suddenly without moving much at all. “It’s not important.”

“Yeah right. You were so excited to start school that it’s all you talked about for weeks, and now suddenly you don’t have a single thing to say about your first day? What’s wrong, Martin?” He tried to sound forceful so that Martin would have to answer, but he was pretty sure that he only sounded worried. 

There was a pause, and then Martin suddenly threw himself forward to pull Jon into a hug, burying his face in Jon’s shoulder. Jon froze, unused to such blatant physical contact, but after a few seconds he was able to relax enough to reach up and return the hug. He didn’t say anything, though, just waited somewhat impatiently for Martin to answer on his own. “‘S no big deal,” Martin insisted in a feeble voice. “‘S just that- that there’s this kid, his name is Billy. He’s a teenager and he’s in high school, so he knows lots of stuff that I don’t know, and he said that I’m pathetic, and that my dad is never coming back ‘cause he hates me, then he took my jumper.”

“Your jumper?”

Martin nodded, still not moving away from Jon. “The one that was my dad’s. Mum doesn’t even know I have it, I think. It’s too big for me to wear but I put it in my backpack for good luck, and now it’s gone.” 

There were a million things that Jon could have said in that moment, but what came out was, “What’s Billy’s last name?”   
,,,

Jon knew that if his grandmother found out he’d skipped school she would be livid, and he was actually a bit afraid of what her reaction might entail, but he knew that this was more important. Martin was his best friend, and even if Jon wasn’t good at talking about how he felt, he knew that actions spoke louder than words anyways.

Jon was small even for his age, and he wore glasses, and shortly after moving here his grandmother had confiscated all of his dresses and replaced them with button up shirts and trousers that made him look almost like a miniature adult (or a dweeb, depending on who was asked). But despite all of that, Jon felt no fear as he marched to the high school, because he knew that his mission was righteous. He had a jumper to obtain.

It was still the beginning of the day, and there were students milling about everywhere. All of them towered over Jon, but he refused to be intimidated. What were high schoolers but very tall first graders anyways? So he clenched his fist, and continued forward, full of determination.

As much as Jon hated talking to strangers, he put aside his own worries and thought about how distraught Martin had been over the stolen jumper. Jon had ended up staying with Martin late enough that he got a talking-to once he was home, but it had been worth it to provide even a small amount of comfort. But Martin had still clearly been upset when Jon had headed out last night, and Jon hated it. Martin was always supposed to look happy and excited, and Jon wasn’t going to let some rotten teenager change that.

He walked up to each person he came across and asked if they knew Billy. Most of them gave him strange looks and laughed right in his face, but a few were kind enough as they turned him away. Finally, though, he found someone that knew Billy. A girl that looked down at him with one arched eyebrow. “And what do you need from him, exactly?”

“He took something that doesn’t belong to him,” Jon practically growled out. 

The girl narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Jon thought she didn’t believe him, but then she reached down to grab Jon’s hand and started storming down the hallway, pulling Jon along with her. He hurried to keep up despite his legs being much shorter than hers, and eventually they stopped in front of a trio of boys standing in front of some lockers.

The tallest boy laughed when he saw Jon and the girl. “What the hell do you want, Mavis? I already told you that I’m done with you. And what’s with the baby? Did you get knocked up by one of your hundreds of flings?” 

While the boy spoke, Jon took a moment to inspect the baggy jumper that he was wearing. It was clearly a bit too big for him, and even though it was a generic looking thing, Jon just knew that it was Martin’s. He pointed an accusing finger up at the boy. “That’s not your jumper, so give it back!”

The boy- presumably Billy- finally shifted his attention down to Jon, though it was mostly just to give him a smug little smirk. “It’s not yours either, shrimp.”

“No, it’s Martin’s, and you better give it back or I’ll tell the police that you’re a thief.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “As if they’d care about what some little squirt like you has to say. Now why don’t you just fuck off back to day care or whatever, and leave me alone.”

“I’m in first grade,” Jon said stubbornly. “And you are going to give that jumper back. It’s very important to Martin, and it doesn’t mean anything to you, so what difference does it make if you just hand it over?”

Billy crouched down so that he could look Jon in the eyes, and he reached up to press his hand over his heart while making a mocking apologetic look with his face. “Oh, it’s important to him? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Here, tell you what- I’ll just hold onto this until it’s big enough for him to wear, which really won’t take too long based on how fat he already is, and then he can have it back. Does that seem fair to you?” When Jon clenched his jaw, Billy and his two friends laughed. “Aw, is the wittle baby going to cry?”

“Billy, stop it, just give the jumper back,” Mavis tried to interject.

Her words clearly had no impact on the situation, though. Jon just stared at Billy, who was still at eye level with him, and considered all the possibilities. He knew that he needed to get that jumper back no matter what, and he also knew that he hated school and didn’t care if he was kicked out. He was still worried about what his grandmother would do, but in the end Martin was much more important than she was.

So Jon punched Billy in the face with all the strength he could muster, and when the older boy was knocked back, Jon launched himself at the teenager. He grabbed at the jumper wherever he could get a handhold, and struggled to tug it over Billy’s head.

One of the other boys tried to wrap his arms around Jon’s waist to yank him away, but Jon just bent over and bit into the back of the nearest hand, not hard enough to draw blood, but he could see the indents left behind in the skin from his teeth. 

Jon was vaguely aware of the sound of shouting coming from somewhere nearby, but he ignored it as he and Billy tumbled around on the floor. At one point a stray elbow knocked into Jon’s face hard enough to cause a loud crunch followed by a trail of blood, and Jon could feel the scratches and bruises slowly mapping their way across his skin, but he kept going, and by the time an adult had come to break up the fight, Jon was triumphantly holding the sweater in his hands, trying not to let any blood drip onto it. 

When the principal demanded Jon’s name, he gave it reluctantly, since he knew it meant his grandmother was probably going to get called in. She’d probably be surprised to get a call from a high school, but Jon wouldn’t even be there to enjoy the look of surprise on her face so it didn’t really matter. 

What mattered was that Billy got in trouble for stealing the jumper in the first place, and for getting into a fist fight with a five year old. And even as he waited for his grandmother to get him and Billy whispered into his ear about how he was going to make Jon pay, Jon just focused on the somewhat grubby jumper clenched tightly in his hands.

Jon was grounded, but his grandmother did drive him to Martin’s that night to drop off the jumper, though she went up with him so that he couldn’t do anything else. The look on Martin’s face as he saw the jumper made all of the trouble worth it. And Jon couldn’t deny that the fluttering feeling in his stomach that came from Martin’s obvious concern over his injuries was… nice. Martin pulled Jon into a tight hug, and the two of them stayed like that for as long as Jon’s grandmother would allow it before she loudly declared that it was time to go home. It would stink not being able to see Martin until he was un-grounded, but it had all been worth it. Maybe Jon wasn’t quite as bad at this whole friendship thing as he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even non-violent people can snap when pushed lol


	4. Dance Party

Jon let out a long sigh of annoyance as he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, and let his legs swing back and forth. “I got into a fight,” he said stiffly. He was pretty sure that it was the counselor's job to scold him for such a thing, even though his grandmother had already done more than enough scolding for the both of them. 

So he was somewhat surprised when the only question out of the woman’s mouth was a hesitant, “Did you win?”

Jon blinked a couple of times, and then shrugged. He’d walked away with more bruises, but he’d also walked away with the jumper. “It was a draw,” he decided. “Listen, Cornelia, I think we need to have a serious talk.”

He tried not to scowl at the blatant look of amusement that crossed her face before she could hide it. “Oh? What is it that you want to talk about?”

“It was nice of you to try and help me and all, but I think that I’ve gotten everything out of you that I can, so if you could just tell my grandmother that we’re done here, I would appreciate it.”

Cornelia blinked a few times, and then furrowed her eyebrows. “Jon, it hasn’t even been half a year since you were orphaned, and you apparently got into a rather violent fight. You hardly socialize with anyone, let alone anyone your age. The reason you’ve been seeing me is so that I can help you adjust to your new life, and it is quite clear that you’ve not yet managed to make that adjustment. This is a scary time for you, and no one likes change, but it’s something that you have to deal with, but you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

Jon tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling, and he couldn’t stop himself from sounding quite annoyed when he responded. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Martin.”

“And that’s great,” she told him in a gentle voice, the kind of voice that in Jon’s experience always came right before some kind of terrible news. “But he can’t be your only friend. It isn’t healthy.” Jon thought about the pain all over his body, especially in his nose (which the doctor had declared to be broken when they’d gone to have it checked), and wondered if perhaps she was right. Then again, Martin didn’t have any other friends either, and he was perfectly fine. And Jon’s grandmother didn’t have any friends at all as far as Jon could tell, and she was fine too. So then it was Cornelia who was wrong here. “What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re alone?”

That was an easy one. Jon moved his head down so that he could look at the counselor again. “Reading, or maybe exploring.”

Cornelia nodded thoughtfully, and Jon could practically see the way her hand was itching to write down everything Jon said. But he’d told her during their first session that he didn’t want her recording anything, in her notebook or otherwise. “And what’s your favorite thing to do when you’re with other people?”

That question took a bit more thought, but even then it wasn’t too difficult to come up with an answer. “Listen to Martin talk about his ridiculous comic books. He didn’t even write them, you know, but he acts all proud of them like he did.” It was something he’d mentioned to Cornelia a few times before, since it was rather confusing.

Cornelia made a thoughtful humming noise as she looked at Jon, and he resisted the urge to squirm away from her gaze. He didn’t like being stared at. “What are you most proud of, Jon? A creation or an achievement or something that you’ve done that you are very proud of yourself for doing.”

Jon’s first thought was to say befriending Martin, but he caught the words before they could slip out of his mouth. Clearly that wasn’t what Cornelia wanted to hear if she thought his friendship with Martin was unhealthy, and Jon wanted to get her to agree to stop seeing him sooner rather than later. He dug through his memories to find something he’d done that would be appropriate to be proud of. He knew that he was a somewhat advanced reader, but he wasn’t particularly proud of that because it just felt like a statement of fact and not anything he’d done to get to that point. 

After several long seconds passed, he saw Cornelia’s face, and he knew he was running out of time if he wanted to come across as a normal, well-adjusted person. He thought back to before he’d moved here, when he’d still lived with his mum. His dad was such a distant memory that he may as well have never existed, but he still remembered his mum. 

She might not have been around very much, but Jon could clearly remember one or two moments he’d spent with her. “There was-” he started in such a soft voice that he had to clear his throat and try again. He tried to ignore the intent look in Cornelia’s eyes as she stared at him. “There was this one time when my mum took a short vacation from work because she wasn’t feeling well. She was really tired but she wouldn’t go to sleep, she just kept working at her desk. I told her that she should have some soup since that’s what I got when I was sick, but she just said she wasn’t hungry and told me to leave her be.

“I figured that meant she’d be busy for a while, so I went into her room and found my favorite dress-up supplies. Normally whatever nanny was around at the moment would tell me that I shouldn’t touch that stuff because boys don’t play with makeup and dresses and such. But there was no nanny around. 

“I put on one of Mum’s shirts to be a dress, and then tried to do my makeup. I wasn’t very good at it, though, and then the next thing I knew, Mum was calling out to me that dinner was ready. I decided to go downstairs without washing up first, and as soon as she saw me, she started laughing. Then she took my hand and led me back upstairs, and she washed off my face and showed me how to do it properly.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Cornelia leaned forward in her seat. “And you were proud of that?”

Jon shrugged. “I looked… nice, and more importantly, I made Mum smile. I think that’s the only time I ever saw her really smile, and I was the one who did that.”

Cornelia gave him a small smile, and she clasped her hands together. “That sounds like a lovely thing to be proud of, Jon.” There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, “The dress-up and makeup… you don’t still do that, do you?”

Jon frowned. “No. I had a few dresses of my own that Mum said I could wear around the house, but my grandmother got rid of them when I moved in with her.”

Cornelia slumped down and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“Why?”

She blinked a few times, and then shifted around, looking awkward. “It’s just not something that boys are supposed to do.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “But why not?”

Cornelia’s face reddened, and she looked trapped in place. But Jon didn’t care, because he knew that he deserved to get answers. “You’re a very clever boy; I’m sure you understand that that’s just how things are.”

“Well then things are dumb,” Jon told her with absolute certainty. “And I’m firing you.” Then he hopped down from his seat and ran out the door before Cornelia could move to stop him.  
,,,

When Jon wound up at Martin’s (completely ignoring the fact that he was still banned from visiting), he explained everything that had happened at his session. Martin had listened very carefully, and then had told Jon to stay put while he snuck into his mum’s room. 

Jon waited perched on the edge of Martin’s bed, and then looked up with wide eyes when Martin returned with a plastic makeup case in hand. He held it out towards Jon. “I bet you look really pretty with this stuff. Sometimes I help my mum put it on when she’s tired, so I kinda know what I’m doing. I can do your face, if you want?”

He sounded so simultaneously shy and proud about the offer that Jon thought he’d have to be crazy to turn it down. But Jon still felt rather irritated by everything the counselor had said, so there was something crucial that he needed to know first. “Will you wear it too?” 

Martin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I uh- I don’t… Yeah, alright. I’ll do you, and you’ll do me, and then we can both uh…”

“Have a dance party,” Jon filled in, a small grin slowly creeping its way across his face. “Makeup is for dancing.”

Martin nodded in agreement, though whether it was because he knew that Jon was right or just didn’t know enough about makeup to disagree, it didn’t really matter. Both boys settled on Martin’s bed, and each of them grabbed one of the small brushes. Martin went first, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked on Jon’s face with an intense level of concentration that Jon hadn’t expected. 

When Martin finally declared that he was done, Jon immediately darted into the bathroom and jumped up onto the sink so that he could peer at himself in the mirror. While the makeup was by no means expertly done, it was a lot better of a job than anything Jon could have done on himself. The makeup also served the purpose of covering up the bruises on Jon’s face for the most part, though Martin had very carefully avoided putting anything too close to Jon’s nose. Jon grinned at his reflection, uncaring of the way the motion stretched at the sore parts of his face, before going back to Martin’s room. 

Jon did his absolute best to not make Martin look silly, but unfortunately he had no experience with applying makeup, and it left Martin looking rather clownlike. Jon was worried that Martin would get upset about it, but the other boy just laughed. “That’s alright, I didn’t really- uh, anyways how about that dance party?”

“Aren’t you going to wash your face off first?”

Martin quickly shook his head. “No way! You put a bunch of effort into it, so this is what I’m going to wear to the dance party!”

Jon snorted at his ridiculous friend, but felt a flutter of warmth in his chest all the same. They closed the door to Martin’s room and stuffed the cracks with a blanket to try and soundproof the small space, and then Martin turned on the radio. He fiddled with the dials for a few seconds before he stopped on a bouncy sounding song, and with that, the boys were off.

Neither of them really knew how to dance, so they just jumped and twirled and spun around each other, occasionally grabbing hands and holding tight as they continued to wiggle and move around. They weren’t very good at holding in their shrieks of laughter, but luckily they didn’t seem to wake up Martin’s mum, who Jon had no interest in meeting for a second time. 

The two of them kept dancing for a while, only pausing to breathe during the commercial breaks before getting right back to it. They didn’t stop until they both collapsed to the floor from exhaustion, and Jon managed to crawl across the room on sore limbs and shut the radio off, and then he valiantly returned to Martin’s side so that the two of them could stay in a puddle on the floor together. 

Jon knew that he’d have to wash off his face and return home sooner rather than later, but for now, he was going to stay where he was, and he was going to be quite happy about it.


	5. A Day in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Martin in this chapter, just a forced cameo of someone else lol

Jon grinned at the sight of the fallen tree in front of him. He’d had to walk for quite a while just to reach this forest, so as far as he was concerned, the more fun obstacles he encountered, the more worth it his time had been. He paused for a minute to take deep breaths and stretch, and then got ready to continue on.

He managed to pull himself up to the top of the trunk, which was twice as tall as him even lying on its side, and then he sat down, enjoying the feeling of success that washed over him. The only thing that would make this moment more perfect would be if Martin was there with him, but Martin was still off visiting relatives for the rest of the holidays, leaving Jon to figure out how to entertain himself.

“Hey.”

Jon was so startled by the sudden human voice breaking the peacefulness of the moment that he lost his balance and slipped down the other side of the tree. He could feel the way the bark scraped through the back of his shirt, and winced both from the pain and from the thought of how annoyed his grandmother would be to see the ruined clothing. 

Once he hit the ground, he whirled around to see who had spoken. There, perched on top of the tree in a frog-like position, was a young woman. Jon could immediately tell that there was something off about the woman, and it scared him, but he wanted to figure out what was wrong with her, so he didn’t run away like he probably should have. “Who are you?”

The woman grinned, and Jon got the strangest feeling that her face hadn’t moved at all, despite the fact that he could clearly see the smile she was wearing that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. “Oh, I have all sorts of names. You can call me Lucille, though. It’s what I used to go by. And who are you? You don’t look like you’re supposed to be wandering around here.”

Jon thought about it for a few seconds before deciding how to answer. “It’s none of your business. I’m just going to go.”

He turned around, and then there was a hand on his shoulder despite there having been no noise from movement, and no way for Lucille to have gotten down in less than a second. He whirled around and Lucille stood over him, grinning widely. “You’re going the wrong way if you’re trying to leave.”

“Leave me alone,” Jon told her through gritted teeth. For the first time, he actually found himself regretting that he’d scurried off for the day without saying a word to his grandmother. She’d have no idea where to look for him if he wound up dead. 

Lucille laughed, though she didn’t move, which made it entirely unnerving to hear the boisterous noise. “Oh, I could do that. But then I certainly wouldn’t be able to guarantee that you’d make your way home safely. I’ve heard that this place can be a bit of a death trap.”

It was only then that Jon realized Lucille didn’t even move her lips when she spoke, though he could clearly hear that the words were coming out of her mouth. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that it wasn’t natural, wasn’t normal. People weren’t supposed to be perfectly still like that, almost like a mannequin, and yet somehow still able to talk and move without moving. It was confusing and frightening, and Jon half-wished that Martin was there with him (though the other half of him was glad that Martin was nowhere in sight because he didn’t deserve to have to deal with this). “What are you?”

Lucille laughed. “Oh, isn’t that a rude question when you haven’t even introduced yourself to me yet? What if we’re supposed to be the bestest of friends?”

“We’re not,” Jon told her in his firmest voice. “I’m not supposed to tell my name to strangers.” 

Lucille laughed harder. “We’re hardly strangers. You know my name now, don’t you? That makes us a step closer to being friends. All we need to finish the friendship is for you to tell me your name.” Jon tried to take a step back, but Lucille’s grip on his shoulder tightened without her fingers moving in the slightest. “Now’s hardly the time to start being difficult. We still have so much to learn about each other!”

Jon kicked Lucille in the knee, and winced when it felt like he’d just slammed his toe against a concrete wall. It was enough to get Lucille to loosen her hand, though, and Jon immediately turned and took off running through the woods. He had no idea where he was going or what his plan was, he just knew that he needed to get away.

He felt like he had been running for hours before he stopped, heaving in deep gulps of air. When Jon glanced around, he knew that he was lost, and even as his breathing calmed down, his heart continued to hammer in his chest at the thought that he was going to die in these woods, and his body would probably never be found, and Martin would be sad, and his grandmother would probably be at least a little bit sad too.

“Hey kid, this way!” a voice called out. Jon looked over, expecting to see Lucille standing there leaning up against a tree, but instead he just saw another kid. Much older than Jon and Martin, probably in high school, but a kid all the same. He was thankfully normal looking other than the few twigs that had gotten snagged in his curly blonde hair, but that didn’t mean Jon had any reason to trust him. 

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” He was quite done with strangers for the day, and really just wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and go to sleep for the next five thousand years. 

The kid rolled his eyes, like Jon was being difficult for not immediately rushing to his side. “I came here to investigate that thing that you were running from. We both know that she was no ordinary woman.”

“Do we?” Jon did know that, but he also knew that people older than him tended to not believe him about much of anything.

The other boy nodded. “We do. I may not look like much, but I work at a place that looks into things like this. Well, it’s an unpaid internship, but still. I may not be an expert like my boss is, but I at least know how to get away from it.”

Jon hesitated, but in the end he decided that going with this stranger was better than going with the one that was still presumably somewhere behind him. And it wasn’t because the boy was the more normal looking of the two strangers. Or at least not just because of that. It was also because Jon just got this feeling, somewhere in his stomach, that the older boy was trustworthy. 

So he held out his hand, and the boy took it, holding it gently as he guided Jon through the unfamiliar woods. “I’m Michael, by the way,” he cheerfully informed Jon after they’d been walking for a while. “You don’t have to introduce yourself to me if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, I just thought it would be easier to share my name with you.”

Jon only hesitated for a moment before answering. “Jon.”

“Well Jon, I can promise you that we are almost at the edge of the woods. You should be safe to make your way home from there. And you don’t have to worry about that thing coming after you. My job might technically be just to observe and study, but my boss never sends me into any situation unprepared. You’re going to be alright, Jon.”

They walked in silence for the rest of the way after that, until they finally emerged from the trees and into the uninterrupted sunlight of the nearby land. “THank you for helping me. I could have handled it myself, of course,”

“Of course.”

“But it was… nice to have a bit of a help anyways. Good luck with your research.”

Michael smiled. “Thanks. Now get home safe, you hear me?”

Jon nodded, and then hurried off. When he glanced back, he saw that Michael was still watching him, which urged him to move faster. Jon just needed to get home, so that’s what he was going to do. Or, well, he tried to, but unfortunately they’d emerged from a section of the woods that was apparently quite far away from where Jon had entered, and he still had no idea where he was (though at least it was better to be lost out here than in there). 

Jon spotted a police car parked by the side of the road, and after taking a moment to go over the pros and cons in his head, he decided to approach. Police were supposed to help people, right? Though he couldn’t help remembering his last encounter with the police, when he’d been so sure that they were going to arrest him. What if he was going to get in trouble for wandering around in the woods? (It didn’t even occur to him for a moment to mention his encounter with Lucille. Some things were best left unsaid to grown-ups). He made his way over, and then knocked politely on the driver side door.

He stepped back so that there was room for the door to swing open, and a woman in a police uniform looked down at him. “Hello there.”

Jon sighed. “I’m lost. Can you help me get home?”

The woman nodded. “Sure thing. What’s your name? And do you know where you live?” 

“I’m Jonathan Sims, and I live with my grandmother.” Then he rattled off the address that still felt strange to say even after over a year of living there. 

The woman nodded as she jotted that down on her little notepad. “You must be very smart to remember all that at your age. Oh, and I’m Ellie. I promise that I will get you home safely. Why don’t you hop in the backseat, and we’ll get going once you’re buckled in? I just need to call this in so my boss knows where I’m headed, and…” she trailed off when she peered over her shoulder.

Jon had to get on his knees to grab the buckle for his seat belt, and then dragged it down and clicked it into place. The chest part of the strap was several inches above his head, flat against the seat. She frowned and opened her mouth, but Jon cut her off. “It’s alright, I’m fine like this.”

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s actually against the law for someone of your size to be riding around without some kind of booster seat.”

Jon hadn’t realized that it was illegal to be a passenger in a car. His grandmother always told him that if something happened, he should just curl up and grab onto the lap section of the seat belt as tightly as possible. He didn’t want his grandmother to get arrested, though. “I always hope that someone will finally let me ride like a grown-up,” he grumbled, which he hoped would be enough to indicate that his grandmother did no such thing. 

Jon sat patiently in the back seat while they waited for a different police car to show up, and this one brought a booster seat with them. Ellie and the other officer helped get Jon set up in it, and Jon had to stop himself from whining when the other officer’s hand brushed across his back. He was relieved when they were done, and Jon couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of being tall for once. Then the other officer left, and Ellie brought Jon home. She kept trying to start conversations with him, but Jon wasn’t really in the mood to talk. He was too busy thinking about everything that had happened in the woods.

It didn’t take as long as Jon thought it would for them to reach home, and he quickly unbuckled himself and hopped out of the car. “Thank you for the ride, ma’am, but I can take it from here.”

Ellie laughed as she got out of the car as well. “I’m sure you can, but I still just want to make sure that everything is alright here.” 

Jon sighed, but tried not to be too irritated with her, since she had done him the huge favor of taking him home. It wasn’t her fault that his grandmother was going to be quite annoyed by all of this. He knocked softly on the door, half-hoping that his grandmother wouldn’t hear it and wouldn’t answer.

The door swung open after a few seconds, and Jon’s grandmother looked down at Jon first, and then up at Ellie in confusion. “He in some kind of trouble?”

Ellie blinked a few times, and then shook her head. “Oh, no, not at all. You’ve got a very sweet boy on your hands.” Jon resisted the urge to snort. He was pretty sure that no one had ever described him as ‘sweet’ before. “Could I maybe talk to you for a minute? Alone?” 

His grandmother sighed and glanced back at Jon. “Go get cleaned up.” It was tempting to hang around and listen in on the conversation, but he was pretty sure that his grandmother was already going to be upset with him and he didn’t want to add to that, so he just nodded and hurried up the stairs.

Jon scrubbed at his face and hands to get rid of any lingering dirt, and then gingerly peeled off his shirt. He was relieved to see that it hadn’t gotten torn up like he’d thought it would, though his back was a different story. When he stood in front of the mirror on the back of his door and looked over his shoulder at the reflection, he could see the pink and white scratch marks that covered nearly the entire surface, as well as a few spots of bright red where blood had beaded up. He didn’t know what to do about that, though, since putting plasters anywhere would hurt a lot when they came off, so he settled for changing into a new shirt and shoving the other one to the bottom of his laundry basket. 

After a couple of minutes, he heard the sound of the front door closing, and then he heard the sound of Ellie’s car starting. He cautiously made his way downstairs, and found his grandmother waiting for him in the kitchen. “What were you doing by the woods? You must have walked for at least two hours just to get there. Do you realize how stupid that was? What if you’d gotten hurt? There would have been no one there to help you.”

Jon definitely wasn’t going to tell her about his back now, or about the fact that he’d been far from alone in the woods. “I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble.”

His grandmother closed her eyes, and reached up to rub at the side of her head, the way she did when she felt a headache building up. “If you ever get brought home by police escort again, I swear I will lock you in your room for a year so that you can’t cause any more problems.”

Jon wasn’t sure if his grandmother was serious about the entire year part, but she did lock him in his room that night after dinner, and Jon stared up at the ceiling, which was covered in glow in the dark star stickers that Martin had given him. They didn’t glow very brightly, though, since the lights had been off in his room all day. Jon sighed and rolled over onto his stomach to give his back a break, and he thought about how bizarre his day had been. He was sure that he’d tell Martin all about it as soon as Martin got home, but for now, he was just going to sleep. It had been a long day, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I am not going to change the fact that Jon acts like a major skeptic as an adult xD


	6. All Dressed in White

Jon bit his lip as he stretched even further. “Come on… just a little bit- Aha!” He managed to grab the book he’d been reaching for (which had been unfairly located on the top shelf). When he tugged at it, though, it brought down several other books from the top shelf as well, and Jon had to tuck and roll out of the way to avoid being brained by any of them.

Once everything stopped moving, Jon slowly got to his feet and looked at the mess. The stool and stack of books he’d been precariously balanced on had all been knocked over, as well as the books that had fallen off the shelf. The right thing to do would be to tell the librarian about the mess and help her clean it up. But what if she called the police on him for being a vandal?

Jon had seen it on the news just last night, that some teenagers had been arrested for destroying stuff. Jon didn’t want to go to jail at all, but he definitely didn’t want to go to jail over a few books. So after a moment of contemplation, Jon fished the book he’d been looking for out of the pile on the floor, and then hurried off. 

When he set the book down on the front counter so that he could check it out, the librarian turned it around to get a better look at the title. “‘Marriage Laws’,” she read out loud. “How old are you, honey?”

Jon thought about it for a second. If he said he was only six, she’d probably say that he was too young to worry about marriage and stuff anyways. “I’m seven,” he lied, and then held his breath as he waited for her to call him out on it. 

He must have been a pretty good liar, though, because she just smiled. “You looking to get married?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “No.” He didn’t bother to elaborate, since it was none of this lady’s business that the idea of getting married made Jon’s stomach feel funny. He didn’t know much about marriage, other than that it involved living together and lots of kissing, but he was pretty sure that he wasn’t interested. Besides, who would he even marry? An image of Martin flashed through his mind, but Jon quickly pushed it away. “I just need to check out this book.”

He got the feeling that the librarian was just humoring him, but Jon didn’t really care. She stamped the card that was kept tucked inside the front cover of the book, and then slid the book back across the desk so that Jon could reach it again. “Have a lovely day, hun. It’s supposed to be pretty sunny out.”

“Thanks,” Jon mumbled as he grabbed the book and took off. It seemed best to get as far away from the scene of the crime as possible. It wasn’t until he was outside and heading to his grandmother’s car to wait for her that he realized he should have just snuck the book out instead of leaving behind evidence that he’d been in the library. Great, now he was definitely going to get arrested. 

Jon had no idea how long his grandmother was going to take. She’d told him going in that the library was too far away from home to go very often, so they needed to take full advantage of their time there. Which seemed like it meant she was going to take ages.

Jon got into the car, and opened the book on his lap. His teacher had called him an ‘advanced reader’, but even just skimming the table of contents quickly revealed how out of his depth Jon was. But he was determined to find a proper answer to a question Martin had asked him the other day. 

Apparently that comic series that Martin loved so much had been cancelled indefinitely because some people had complained about the two main characters getting married. Jon could understand finding it very strange, since he also thought that it was weird that two people would want to get married, but he didn’t think he’d try to get a story cancelled over it. 

Martin had been so upset about the idea of his favorite comic being cancelled, and he’d asked Jon if he thought that there was any way to convince the complainers that they had no reason to be complaining. Jon figured that if there was going to be any way to find out, it would have to be through some research, and he’d basically begged his grandmother nonstop to take him to the library until she finally gave in. 

After agreeing, she’d reached out to ruffle Jon’s hair and give him a rare smile. “Even if you are asking to go to the library of all places, I’ve never heard you sound so much like a normal child before,” she’d told him. Jon wasn’t sure why he’d want to sound like a ‘normal’ child, but it had seemed to make his grandmother pleased, so Jon was sure to keep it in mind for the next time that he wanted something.

For now, though, he just needed to focus on his research. He probably should have checked out a dictionary, too, because he didn’t know half the words on any given page. Eventually he gave up, and snapped the heavy book shut with a frustrated grunt. All of that crime had been for nothing. 

His grandmother came out of the library not too long after that, and slid the bag of books she’s checked out into the front passenger seat. “So what did you find?”

Jon held up the book. “Just some research stuff.”

His grandmother barked out a laugh. “You’re researching marriage? Why?”

That’s when it occurred to Jon that maybe books weren’t the only sources of information that he had available to him. His grandmother was pretty old, which meant that she had to know a lot of stuff, right? “Martin’s favorite story got cancelled ‘cause people were complaining about marriage stuff. Even though two of the side characters got married ages ago, nobody started complaining until now.”

“And it got cancelled?” 

Jon could see the way his grandmother furrowed her eyebrows as he looked at her reflection in the center mirror. “Yeah.” Then he thought about the things he remembered Martin saying his mum had said about the story. “Are- are boys not allowed to marry boys?” 

His grandmother scoffed. “Of course they’re not. What would be the point? Two boys can’t have any babies together. Was the story cancelled when two boys got married?” Jon nodded slowly. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, in that case. That does not sound like the kind of thing a child should be reading anyways. Far too inappropriate.”

Jon couldn’t see what was so inappropriate about marriage, but he knew better than to try to argue with his grandmother about it. So he just gave a non committal grunting noise, and stayed silent the rest of the drive home.  
,,,

The next time that Jon went to see Martin, he lugged the heavy law book all the way there, even though it made his arms feel like they were going to snap right off of his body. He shoved the book onto Martin’s dresser, and then hopped up onto Martin’s bed, and then flopped back, spreading his arms out to the sides. He waited a few seconds for Martin to follow him into the room. “Martin, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Martin frowned as he set down two plates with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he’d just made for them. “What is it?”

Jon heaved out a long sigh. “Remember when we first met and you told me that you wanna marry a boy?” Martin nodded slowly as he waited for the bad news. Jon hated to be the one to break it, but it was better for Martin to find out now, instead of him getting arrested during his wedding. “Two boys can’t get married,” he explained in a solemn tone. “I’m sorry.” 

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Martin got onto the bed as well, lying next to Jon. He clasped his hands together over his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. “I know that,” he said softly. “My mum’s told me a bunch of times about how it’s- it’s wrong.”

It was a rare time when Martin knew something before Jon did, but Jon didn’t feel too sore about it. He was mostly just upset about the fact that there was anything that dared to make Martin unhappy. He rolled over onto his side, and propped his head up with his hand so that he could look at Martin properly. “Look, I’m not really big on the idea of getting married, but I’m willing to make an exception for you. We’ll just get married and not tell anybody, so that way you can get married to a boy like you want to, but you won’t get arrested for it.” Honestly, it was such a simple solution that Jon was amazed he hadn’t come up with it sooner.

Martin bolted upright to look at Jon. “Wait- really? Now?” 

Jon slowly sat up as well, and shook his hand for a few seconds to get the feeling back in it. “It’s as good a time as any, isn’t it?”

Martin considered that for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah, let’s get married. But not today, okay? It’s supposed to be a really special day.”

“Tomorrow?” Jon suggested, already starting to grow bored of the topic. He couldn’t really figure out what was so special about marriage when it just meant living together and kis- oh. “No kissing,” he suddenly blurted out, interrupting whatever Martin had been about to say. “But you can hold my hand during the ceremony,” he magnanimously offered.

Martin’s face turned a bit pink, and then he nodded. “Alright. How about on Saturday?”

Jon nodded in agreement, glad that the details had been settled, and then he rolled onto his stomach and reached down to grab a book off of Martin’s floor. “Come on, let’s finish this one.” They crowded together closely, and then Jon started slowly reading out loud from the chapter book. Martin was just as good at reading as Jon, but he seemed to like it better when Jon was the one who did the reading, and Jon didn’t mind. They stayed pressed together like that until Jon had to head home, and then reminded each other that they were going to get married on Saturday.  
,,,

When Jon showed up on Saturday morning, Martin gave him a big grin. “I got you a present.”

“Are wedding presents a thing?

Martin shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

Jon frowned at that. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s alright,” Martin assured him. “Now come on, look at your present!” He pulled Jon into his room, and then gestured to a plastic shopping bag that was on the bed. It seemed innocuous enough, but Martin seemed very excited about whatever was inside.

Jon carefully reached in, and pulled out a folded up piece of white cloth. When he held it up so that it unrolled, he found himself holding a white sundress with little silver bows on the spots where the thin straps connected to the body of the dress, and a bit of a ruffle at the bottom. 

He lowered the dress so that he could get a better look at Martin, whose face had turned quite red by that point. “I just thought that you might like it.”

Jon grinned, and lunged forward to pull Martin into a hug. “I do, it’s perfect.” With the dress in hand, it occurred to Jon that he might actually have a present for Martin. He’d brought a bowtie, since all the wedding movies he’d watched in the past couple of days showed them being worn, but he didn’t want to wear a bowtie with a dress. He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it to Martin. “Wear this, so we both look nice.” Then he hurried into the bathroom so he could get changed.

The dress fit him well enough, and Jon pulled his shoes back on. He was pretty sure that when he was older, it would be a lot more difficult to find dresses that fit well, which really only made it more logical that he and Martin were going to get married now. 

When Jon emerged from the bathroom, he saw that Martin had changed into his church clothes, with the addition of Jon’s tie. He grinned when he saw Jon. “Are you ready to get married?”

Jon nodded. “Yup.” He grabbed the law book that he’d left here last time, and figured that it was as good as a priest for marrying people. The two of them headed down the stairs and out into the little courtyard area behind the building. Neither of them wanted to ruin their clothes on the grass, so Jon just set the book down, and then they both sat on the swingset, gently swaying back and forth. In the movies he’d watched, the priest always talked for a long time, but none of that seemed necessary, so Jon decided to cut right to the chase. “Do you, Martin Blackwood, wanna marry me?”

Martin nodded immediately. “Yes! Do you, Jonathan Sims, wanna marry me?”

Jon pretended to think about it for a moment before answering. “Yeah, alright.” Then he held his hand out. “You may now hold the groom’s hand.” Martin grinned, and also reached out, and they clasped their hands together. A few seconds passed in silence, and then Jon shrugged. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re married now.” 

There was another few minutes of silence. “Jon, do you- I mean I think- I’m pretty sure that marriage is supposed to be forever. So if you’re married to me, that means you can’t get married to anyone else?”

Jon shrugged at the questioning tone. “That’s fine, I wasn’t really planning on marrying anyone else anyways. Besides, you got me this nice dress, so the least I can do is be married to you forever.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand a bit at that declaration, and then they both sat outside until it started to get dark. It wasn’t exactly like the weddings in the movies Jon had watched, but it had still been surprisingly nice. Though Jon did have to remind Martin of one very important fact. “I don’t think we can live together. My grandmother got mad when she saw me trying to pack my stuff earlier.”

“That’s fine, we’ll just live together when we’re grown ups.” 

Jon nodded. “Okay.” They continued to hold hands, and Jon couldn’t help thinking that maybe this whole marriage thing wasn’t so bad after all.


	7. Happy Anniversary (hope you like Spiders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a couple of pretty big time jumps, but it's because I wanted to get the ball rolling. There will still be a few more chapters left with them as children, and then I will jump ahead to adulthood.

Jon looked up in confusion when a stack of books was suddenly dropped down on the table right in front of him. Well, he finished filling in the answer for the question of his homework that he’d been on, and then he looked up. His grandmother had her hands on her hips, and a smug grin on her face. Jon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What are these?”

“Books. For you to read. I just grabbed a bunch that were in the cheap bin at the used store, and you can sort through and read whichever ones you want. When you’re finished with all of them, we’ll donate them and grab some more. This way we don’t have to go all the way to the library every time you need new reading material.”

That… that was actually a pretty clever idea, and Jon felt almost guilty for being surprised that his grandmother cared enough about him to come up with it. “Thanks!” He pushed aside the worksheet he’d been in the middle of so that he could start looking through his books. His grandmother wandered away without bothering to reprimand him about finishing his homework first. 

It was certainly a very mixed group of books. Some of them were discarded immediately, as they were obviously intended for babies, which Jon was not. There were a few short novels meant for people around Jon’s age, and then a few much larger ones that seemed to be for grown ups. Jon didn’t care for the baby books, but he did feel a bit proud of himself that he apparently seemed grown up enough for his grandmother to offer him those kinds of books.

After he’d finished sorting through all of them, Jon grabbed the first book off the stack of ones he intended to read. The cover picture was of a knife with blood dripping down it, and the description said that it was a murder mystery. Jon enjoyed mysteries, when they were well-written anyways, because it was fun to try and figure everything out before the characters did.

He took the book up to his room, and curled up under his blankets so that he would be nice and cozy as he started reading. It was actually rather interesting, and Jon found himself staying up late, eyes glued to the pages. He was determined to get to the end before he went to sleep.   
,,,

The next night, Jon left his door open slightly so that some light from the hallway could leak into his room. Of course he wasn’t scared or anything, but, well, the monster that had turned out to be the culprit in that book wasn’t anything Jon wanted to think about while he was trying to sleep, and it was easier to not think about it when the room wasn’t completely dark.

Unfortunately, as Jon laid huddled under his blankets, clutching one of his pillows to his chest, his grandmother started towards her own room to go to bed. As she passed through the hallway, she flipped off the lights, instantly covering Jon’s room in darkness. 

He could see the shadows of tree branches from outside dancing across his floor and wall, and every time the house made one of its typical shifts or creaks, Jon held his breath. 

Jon was so on edge as he impatiently waited for the monster from the book to just swoop in and eat him up like it had in the story, and he knew that he wasn’t going to get any sleep. He got up and closed his door completely so that he could turn the light on in his room. He couldn’t sleep with that much light shining down on him, but if he was going to be awake anyways, he’d rather it be in a bright room. 

He turned to go back to his bed, but he was stopped in place when something grabbed the back of his shirt. He let out a loud shriek, certain that the monster had gotten him and he was going to die, and he was never going to see Martin again, and he’d never be able to tell his counselor Cornelia what an idiot she was, and he’d never be able to tell his grandmother-

Then he realized that he wasn’t being grabbed by a monster, but the door. He must have accidentally trapped part of his shirt when he’d closed the door. He realized it when the door suddenly swung open and he stumbled forward after being abruptly freed. He turned around to see his grandmother standing in the doorway, wearing her nightclothes. She did not look happy to have been disturbed. “What on Earth are you doing up this late?”

Jon couldn’t tell her that he’d been scared of a fictional monster. She’d probably never let him read anything but baby books if he did. And he wouldn’t want to tell her that he’d had a generic nightmare, because she seemed to believe that only babies had those. “I was just- just playing,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.” The scowl on his grandmother’s face didn’t bode well for him. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t often apologize (because he was rarely the one in the wrong), but he hoped that his grandmother would accept it. Because if not, then Jon knew it was not going to be a very pleasant night.  
,,,

Jon knew that Martin kept giving him worried looks, but he didn’t really have anything to say, so he just stayed quiet. He barely paid attention to Martin’s rambling, until he was asked a question and had to mentally rewind the past few seconds so that he knew what it was. “Did you change your mind about wanting to be married to me?” 

Jon frowned, and sat upright so quickly that it made his head feel dizzy for a few seconds. “Why would you ask that?”

Martin looked away as he shrugged one shoulder, but Jon could still see the red that had taken over his cheeks. “It’s just that- well we got married almost a year ago, but then we never talked about it again, and I thought- I thought we’d be able to hold hands and stuff. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, I get it, but I just- maybe you could tell me that now?”

Jon rolled his eyes, and reached over to grab one of Martin’s hands. “You shoulda told me that you wanted to. And we don’t talk about it because we broke the law to get married, remember? We don’t want to get arrested. So quit worrying about it. I already told you we’d stay married forever, didn’t I?”

The grin that slowly appeared on Martin’s face made Jon’s stomach feel like it was twisting in knots, and he didn’t quite understand why. “You’re right. Thanks, Jon!” 

He didn’t really know what he was being thanked for, but Jon just gave a modest little shrug and then flopped back down, still holding Martin’s hand. “So you gonna keep telling me about that new comic series?” 

He waited expectantly for Martin to launch back into his long and convoluted explanation so that Jon could zone out again, but Martin seemed to enjoy constantly being so unpredictable. “It’s so hot out, why are you wearing that jumper?”

That was definitely not a conversation that Jon wanted to get into, and he sat back up again so that he could hop down off the bed, letting go of Martin’s hand in the process. “We’ve just been lying around in here all day. Come on, let’s go play outside. I read this cool book called _Treasure Island_ , and I want to play pirates. I’ll be Long John Silver, obviously, and you can be Billy Bones, and-”

Martin got up as well, but he didn’t look excited at the prospect of playing out one of the latest books Jon had read. “It’s not that I don’t- Jon, it’s hot outside too, and you shouldn’t be running around playing pretend when you’re wearing so many layers. I heard about it, you could get de- dehy-adrate.”

Jon frowned, and petulantly crossed his arms over his chest. “So I’ll drink a lot of water, Martin, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

But apparently Martin had decided that there was a mystery to be solved, and Jon knew that he’d never give up until he got an answer. He could see that they wouldn’t be able to go and play until he gave in and let Martin have a few answers, so Jon just sighed and then rolled up his sleeves. The mottled bruises lining his arms were already turning yellow, and would probably be gone in a few more days. There was only one spot that would take longer to heal, where the skin had been split open, but it was further up Jon’s arm, and therefore out of sight. “I fell,” he said, feeling strangely numb. “I’m real clumsy.”

Martin frowned. “You’re not clumsy,” he muttered. Then he slowly moved forward to gently brush his fingers over the bruises. “Since we’re married, shouldn’t I kiss them better?”

Jon sighed again, but he raised his arms up enough that Martin could do just that. “If you must.” 

Only once Martin was satisfied that Jon wasn’t in any pain did he declare that they could go outside and play pirates. He carefully suggested again that Jon leave his jumper inside, but Jon just ignored the suggestion and hurried to the front door of the flat. He’d much rather play pretend than think about all of the very real things going on in his life. 

When they were out in the courtyard, Jon looked around carefully to make sure that no one was watching them, and he dared to roll his sleeves up. It was annoying, but Martin had made a good point. It was too hot out to be running around with an extra layer on. But he didn’t want to risk taking the jumper off all the way and not having enough time to pull it back on, so he settled for this compromise.

The two of them played through the story as Jon narrated it, until they got to the part where they should have started fighting for the first time. Martin stubbornly shook his head. “I can’t fight you, we’re married,” he hissed, as if Jon could have forgotten. “I wanna be on the same team as you!”

Jon let out an exasperated noise, but he did figure out how to shift the story and characters around so that they could be on the same team. And he decided to let them find the ‘buried treasure’ in the end, which was just an old broken dog collar that had been abandoned by the swingset ages ago. 

With the story complete, they both plopped down on the ground to catch their breath. “We should make swords for next time,” Jon pointed out. “Something better than long sticks.”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, that’d be fun.” Then he stood up, and offered a hand down to Jon. “There’s some old-fashioned lemonade in the fridge that’ll be nice and cold, and I can make us sandwiches.”

Jon accepted the hand and let Martin pull him up to his feet. “I’ll help,” he declared. “You’re always doing the cooking yourself, but I want to help from now on.”

The bright grin on Martin’s face should have been illegal for how distracting it was. “Great!” Then they raced each other inside and up the stairs to Martin’s flat. It was only on the second floor, but it still wiped them out after an entire afternoon of running around outside, and they laughed as they collapsed down on the couch in the living room. Jon hesitated for a moment, and then scooted closer so that his shoulder was up against Martin’s. It had been such a nice day, but then, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Every day spent with Martin was a nice one.   
,,,

Jon looked through his latest stack of books that his grandmother had dumped onto the table for him. He immediately set aside what he was doing (putting together a puzzle so that when he brought it to Martin he’d already know how to do it), and started sorting through the books as his grandmother wandered off. 

He always shoved all the baby books into the giveaway pile immediately, and started to do so this time as well, but then he paused. The baby books were always so garishly brightly colored, but this book was just black and white. Jon frowned as he flipped it over to look at the back. There was no description of what the book was supposed to be, just a drawing of a spider wearing a red hat. 

The image of a spider in a hat should have made for at least a semi-amusing thing, but something about this particular drawing sent shivers down Jon’s spine. He flipped the book back over to look at the cover again. The title looked like it had been written there by a little kid, and when Jon ran his fingers across the words, he could feel the indents from them being basically carved into the surface. 

Even though Jon was a big kid now at eight years old, and was therefore old enough to understand that there was no such thing as monsters, he couldn’t help feeling as though there was something unbearably evil about this particular book. But he felt almost mesmerized by it, and flipped it open to the first page before he could stop himself.

There was a shiny gold library sticker on the inside of the front cover, though Jon had never heard of the library of Jurgen Leitner before, so he quickly turned his attention to the actual first page. Every single one of his instincts screamed out that this book was a terrible, awful thing that should not be touched, but Jon couldn’t deny how curious he was to see what kind of story it contained. So against his better judgement- or maybe because he was incapable of stopping at that point- Jon flipped to the next page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to break this into two chapters, but I decided that if I made a whole chapter just for Mr. Spider, it would've just been me repeating everything that was already said in that episode, so there would be no point.


	8. Holding Each Other Up

Jon could hear the distant sound of his grandmother’s voice, like it was coming from miles away, or maybe underwater, but that didn’t bother him much. He hadn’t really paid attention to anything in the past week. He just couldn’t stop thinking about that damn door, and those long, spindly arms that had to have belonged to a giant spider, and the way they had grabbed Billy and pulled him through the doorway and into nothingness. 

Was it Jon’s fault for reading that stupid book even when his gut had told him to not even look at a single page of it? Was it Billy’s fault for trying to take his anger out on Jon because of an incident that had happened three years ago at this point? 

And then every time he thought about Mr. Spider, and the fact that he had clearly been a very real creature, Jon also had to think about an older memory of monsters, from a day spent in the woods in the company of an unmoving woman. He’d long ago convinced himself that the entire event had been the result of an overactive imagination, but considering what had happened to Billy, Jon did not believe that anymore. 

Monsters were real, and Jon had already met two of them. He could hardly explain any of that to his grandmother, though. She didn’t believe in anything even the slightest bit fantastical, and he didn’t want to risk an argument with her. Besides, it’s not as though Jon was able to do much talking to anyone. By the time the police had found him wandering aimlessly around with a blank stare on his face, he’d already become too entangled in his thoughts (and nightmares) to be able to focus on the present.

His grandmother’s blurry voice let out a few sharp noises, and then went silent, but Jon still didn’t pay attention. His eyes were technically open, but as he stared at the blank wall in front of him, he kept seeing the sight of a door appearing out of nowhere, with two limbs covered in coarse hair stretching out towards him. 

When he felt a hand touch his shoulder, Jon reacted strongly for the first time since he’d been brought home. He let out a strangled yelp and tried to roll out of the way, but only got himself trapped by his own blankets, and he opened his mouth to let out a loud scream as he prepared to be dragged off and eaten like Billy had been. 

But when he wasn’t eaten, Jon slowly realized that there was a warm set of arms around him, warm and soft and smooth and decidedly not spider-like at all. He slowly turned his head, and found Martin’s face right in front of his, covered in concern that didn’t belong on someone who was supposed to be so carefree and happy. 

Jon stared at Martin, and it felt like he was seeing his best friend (and husband) again for the first time in years. He could see the way that Martin’s mouth was opening and closing, and he made a real effort to tune in and hear what was being said. “-free. Is that alright?”

Jon had no idea what had been asked, but if there was anyone in the world he trusted with his life it was Martin, so he just nodded once. Martin wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. He watched as Martin pulled his arms away, and Jon wanted to reach out and pull the other boy back, but his own arms felt like dead weight, like they were barely even connected to his body.

He watched as Martin carefully tugged on the blankets that had gotten wrapped around Jon’s legs, and then shoved them aside. Neither of them cared when the blankets landed in a crumpled heap on the floor next to the bed. Then Martin scooted back up to the head of the bed so that he could sit next to Jon, with their shoulders pressed together. “Do you- do you want to talk about it? I don’t- I don’t know what happened, but I’m scared. I’ve never seen you like this before, and I just wish that there was something I could do to help-”

Jon already knew that he would never be able to talk about any of it, not Mr. Spider, and not Lucille- the woman from the forest. It felt like there was a giant ball of paper stuck in his throat when he opened his mouth, and he snapped it shut again, making his jaw click loudly. Martin believed in superheroes and true love and happy ever afters, and there was no way Jon could bring himself to tell Martin that the monsters were real. It was bad enough that he had to live with that knowledge, but he couldn’t force it onto Martin too. 

He couldn’t say a word, but Jon turned and pressed his face into Martin’s shoulder, and finally was able to move enough that he could wrap his arms around Martin tighter than was probably comfortable. Martin immediately turned the gesture, though he kept his arms loose, in case Jon needed to bolt away again, or maybe just because he was afraid of hurting Jon. 

It was such a Martin thing to do, and that’s what was the final straw. It was like a floodgate had opened up, and Jon started sobbing loudly, screams of terror and frustration muffled by the material of Martin’s fuzzy jumper. Martin gently ran his hand up and down Jon’s back in a soothing motion, and didn’t say anything as Jon released all of the emotions that had built up since the moment he’d seen Billy’s tragic fate. 

When Jon was finally done, his face felt swollen and itchy, and he felt utterly exhausted. He flopped over onto his side, and after a moment of consideration, Martin kicked off his shoes and rolled onto his side as well so that he and Jon were facing each other.

Martin cautiously glanced over towards the bedroom door, then looked back at Jon. He reached out to gently thread his fingers through Jon’s hand, and he moved a little bit closer so that Jon could stay warm without the restriction of a blanket around him. They both fell asleep like that, and Jon wondered what he had ever done to deserve someone like Martin in his life.  
,,,

It took a bit of time, but Jon was eventually able to shove aside all those thoughts of Mr. Spider and other monsters. Now he knew that they were real and a dangerous part of the world, but Jon found it easiest to just not think of them at all. He stopped reading any fictional books that had even the slightest hint of the supernatural, which also meant games of pretend with Martin became much different, as they started re-enacting the lives of famous people rather than playing out any fun stories. He also told his grandmother to stop bringing him stacks of used books, and instead begged the school librarian to let him check out books even though he technically wasn’t old enough yet. 

Things weren’t perfect, and Jon knew that there was a part of him that had been lost and could never be returned, but he still had Martin and research and fun games of sneaking skirts and makeup past his grandmother. School was at least a distraction from everything else, and overall, Jon thought that he was very lucky indeed. At least he was still alive.  
,,,

Martin kicked the football with more force than usual, and Jon dove to the side to avoid being smacked in the head with it. It ricocheted off the side of the apartment building, and then slammed into the mound of dirt that had been lying around for ages, as the owner of Martin’s building had been claiming for months that he was going to put in a nice new playground structure. 

Dirt poofed up into the air, and Jon rolled his eyes as he moved in a fruitless attempt to stop his glasses from getting smudged up with dust. “What’s going on with you?”

Martin heaved out a long sigh, and Jon wondered if he would have to go and fight a high schooler again. It wouldn’t be ideal, and it would be harder to get out of trouble now that he was in second grade, but he would do it if that’s what Martin needed. 

He watched as Martin plopped down onto the ground, clearly not bothered by the dirt stains that were sure to end up all over his jeans. “Mum isn’t doing too well,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “She’s been way less cranky than usual, and she said- well, I just… I don’t know what to do. I told her that smoking all the time isn’t going to help her get better, but that just made her mad. I- I try to be as helpful as I can, but she never gets any better and I’m afraid I-”

Jon knelt down in front of Martin, already writing his own trousers off as a loss, and reached out to take Martin’s hands. “Is there anything I can do?”

Martin shook his head. “I already know why she’s getting worse,” Martin whispered. “She thinks I don’t know, but Dad called her on Friday, and said that he really isn’t ever going to come back. I mean, we- we always figured that he was gone for good, but at least he called and he came back on my birthdays and- but now he’s done with us. Forever. And then Saturday is when Mum started getting worse.”

It was hard for Jon to imagine the kind of pain that Martin was dealing with at the moment. His own parents had both left him behind when they’d died, but he barely even remembered them at this point. Martin’s dad had left before Jon had even moved here, but like Martin had said, he’d made at least a minimal effort to stay in touch. It was bizarre to think that someone would just leave their family on purpose. Or- or maybe it was just so hard to picture because Jon couldn’t think of a single reason anyone would want to leave Martin behind forever. 

Jon shifted around so that he was sitting next to Martin, and they both leaned back against the cool bricks of the apartment building. “Has she been to the doctor?”

Martin shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. She’s gone out a few times, but she never mentioned where she was going.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and pressed his face into them. “I don’t understand it. I mean- I get why she’s so sad now, but I don’t understand why Dad doesn’t want to come home anymore. He always liked football, but I’ve never been any good at playing it seriously. Do you think if I was better at it-?”

Jon didn’t let Martin finish his question. “Don’t be stupid, Martin. Whatever reason your dad has for staying gone has nothing to do with you.”

“How do you know?” Martin asked with a loud sniffle.

Jon bumped his shoulder against Martin’s. “Because I’m a genius and I know everything, so that means I’m right. Also because I know you. Nobody who really knows you would ever want to leave you, and some stupid sport wouldn’t change anything. You’re fine the way you are.”

There was a pause, and then Martin slowly sat up straighter. “Aren’t you supposed to say that I’m perfect the way I am? Isn’t that the saying?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Don’t be greedy, Martin. Nobody’s perfect.” He hesitated for a moment before adding in a much softer voice, half-hoping that Martin wouldn’t be able to hear him, “But you’re probably as close as anyone’s ever gonna get.” 

It was an embarrassing thing to say, but it was worth it for the way it made Martin’s tears start to dry up, and made his whole face turn bright red. “Do you- do you wanna keep playing?” He nodded towards the now dirt-covered football.

Jon scoffed. “I hate football,” he announced. Then he hopped to his feet and reached one hand down so that he could help pull Martin up as well. “Come on, let’s go find some ants.”

Martin gave him a confused look. “Why?”

Jon gave him a mischievous grin in return. “Because my grandmother hates ants.”

“Jon-” Martin tried to protest, but he let himself get tugged along. It was only fair, really, considering how much tugging of his own he’d done over the years. And by the time Jon was ready to head home with one pocket full of all kinds of bugs (except spiders), Martin looked as though he’d managed to forget about all of his worries. And even though he knew it was only a temporary measure, Jon still felt proud of himself for a job well done. Clearly he was well suited to being someone’s husband. Or to being Martin’s, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Jon actually sprinkle bugs around his house? We may never know...
> 
> Also, I added the bit about Martin's dad staying in touch because I was rereading the episode transcripts and I saw that Elias said Martin's dad left when he was 8 or 9, so I just made that when he officially left, but he's basically been out of Martin's life since before the start of this fic.


	9. A Challenger Approaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about how British public schools work lol

Jon swung his legs back and forth as he flipped through the pages of a random magazine. His teacher had a whole stack of them in the corner of the classroom for Jon to look through whenever he’d finished his work early. She’d already tried to have him switched to the ‘gifted’ class, but his grandmother had refused, claiming that it would make things too difficult for Jon to make new friends. Even the teacher had almost laughed at that, but in the end it meant that Jon was still in the normal class that moved at a normal speed (read: a snail’s pace).

After a few more minutes, some of the other students began to finish up their work as well, and began to chat quietly amongst themselves. The magazine wasn’t all that engaging, but Jon ignored the others anyways. He was so busy ignoring them, in fact, that he was taken by surprise when someone walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Jon jolted forward and then craned his neck back, half-expecting to see a giant spider leg. When he just saw one of the girls in the class, his shoulders slumped down and his heart began to slowly get back to beating at its regular speed. 

He cleared his throat, and hoped that none of the terror he’d felt had been written across his face. “Can I help you?” 

The girl gave him a small, shy smile. “You’re Jon, right?” He just raised one eyebrow in response. They’d been in the same class for over a month already, so there was no reason for her to not know his name. He knew her name (Olivia). She gulped. “Right, that was probably a dumb question. Uh…” she reached up to fidget with one of her braids. “I was just wondering if- if maybe you’d like to play with us at recess?”

“Us?” Jon asked dumbly, not really sure how else to respond to the strange request.

Olivia nodded. “Yeah, me, Hannah, Emery, Christian, and the twins from Mrs. Parker’s class. It’s just that I’ve- I’ve noticed that you don’t really play with anyone during recess, and I thought that maybe you’d want to, but you totally don’t have to, and-”

Jon held up one hand to get her to stop babbling on. “You really want me to play with you?” He asked in a voice laced with suspicion. After a few years of public schooling, he’d gotten quite used to being on his own. He’d assumed that no one here would want to hang out with him, and had always just made it through the day with the thought that he would be able to see Martin again in just a few short hours. There had never been any reason to actually enjoy being in school.

Olivia nodded again. “Yeah.” Then she bit her lip and stared at him, waiting for his answer.

And the truth was that Jon couldn’t imagine ever finding a better friend than Martin, but for all that he claimed that he was fine on his own, he did sometimes find himself wishing that he didn’t have to be lonely. He thought that even if this turned out to be some kind of weird trap, he might regret it more if he never even tried to hang out with other kids his age. “Alright.”

For some reason, Olivia seemed to light up at that. “Great! Meet us by the firepole!” Then she skipped back over to her own group of friends, and Jon watched her leave in bemusement. That had been such a bizarre encounter, and he had no idea why anyone would want to invite him to play, but as he tried to focus back on the magazine in front of him, he couldn’t help hoping that maybe they actually meant it.

Jon was understandably nervous when it was time for recess, but he made his way over to the firepole as instructed, and saw a couple of kids already waiting there. The twins from the other class gave him matching friendly grins, and Hannah gave him a small wave. 

It only took another minute for everyone to be gathered there, and Olivia gave him a bright smile when she saw that he’d actually come to play. “So do you wanna play foursquare? I grabbed a ball from the shed.” She held it up like she needed evidence. 

Jon had never played, but he’d seen other kids playing that game during recess before, and he had a basic understanding of the rules. “Sure.” 

Christian found a nice stick that he used to scratch out the grid, and then Olivia, Jon, Emery, and one of the twins, Darren, took their places while the other three lined up next to the grid. 

As it turned out, having theoretical knowledge of the rules did not translate to having any actual skill with the game, and Jon found himself at the back of the line nearly right away. He waited patiently, though, and soon he was back in. As they played, the whole group chatted, and made sure to include Jon in their conversation by asking him questions and also explaining the context for their various anecdotes.

By the time the bell rang to indicate that recess was over, Jon couldn’t help feeling as though that was one of the strangest encounters of his life, but that he’d actually had fun. He still wasn’t sure why Olivia had invited to join her group, but he was satisfied that it had not been a malicious offer, and figured that now that they’d had time to get to actually know Jon, they probably wouldn’t want to play with him again. 

So he was surprised and more than a little confused when Olivia invited him to play with her group again the next day, and then everyday after that too. It didn’t take long before he was invited to sit with that group at lunch, and Christian even suggested that Jon ask the teacher if he could swap desks to be closer to the group. Jon probably wouldn’t be able to explain if he was asked why he actually did it, and found himself sitting with the group.

It wasn’t until the teacher pulled him aside to tell him that she was proud of him for making friends that it occurred to Jon he’d made some new friends. A whole handful of them. And it turned out to be surprisingly easy. None of them could compare to Martin, and he doubted he’d be willing to marry Christian or Emery just to keep them from getting arrested, but still, he found himself enjoying the time that he spent with them all, much to his own surprise.  
,,,

“-and then Martin got too close to the open window, and he ended up dropping it out, so we ran outside and managed to just catch it before it could land in a mud puddle.”

Olivia snorted when Jon reached the conclusion of his story. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You, uh, you talk about Martin a lot.”

Jon just shrugged. Martin had been his only friend for years, so it only made sense that most of his stories would involve Martin. “He’s my best friend.”

“Right, right.” She fidgeted with her hands, the way she always did when she was nervous. “I was just thinking that maybe- maybe since Martin is your best friend that I could meet him some time? He sounds really cool.”

Somehow the idea of his school friends and Martin meeting each other had never occurred to Jon. They felt so entirely separate, and not just because he saw them at different locations. But Martin had enjoyed the stories Jon had shared with him about the school kids, so there was no real reason that he couldn’t let them meet. 

Once he’d finished thinking it all through, Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, sure. It might be overwhelming to introduce all of you guys at once, but yeah. I usually go to his flat after school, so whenever-”

“How about today?”

Jon blinked a couple of times, and then shrugged again. “I don’t see why not.”

Olivia relaxed back in her seat. “Awesome.” 

When the final bell rang at the end of the day, Jon met Olivia by the front doors of the school, and then the two of them walked together to Martin’s place. They went up to the second floor, and Jon pushed the unlocked front door open. Martin went to a school closer to his home, so he always got there before Jon, and left the door unlocked. 

Martin must have heard the door, because he called out from his bedroom, “Hey, I’m in here! There’s a lot of glue on my hands!” 

Curious to find out what that was all about, Jon led Olivia to Martin’s room. Martin was sitting on the floor with his hands pressed down against some white foam blocks. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a…” Martin trailed off as he finally looked up from his messy art project and he spotted Olivia standing awkwardly behind Jon. “Oh. Hello…?”

Jon cleared his throat. “Martin, this is Olivia. I’ve told you about her.”

Martin nodded. “Right, right. I’d shake your hand, but-”

“It’s fine,” Olivia assured him. Jon couldn’t really tell what she was thinking, but he wondered if she regretted this already. 

There was a stilted awkwardness in the air that was quite uncomfortable, so Jon dropped his backpack down on the floor next to the bed. “Have you eaten yet, or did you just jump right into this?” He gestured to the whole gluey mess. 

A bit of pink showed up on Martin’s cheeks. “I was a bit excited, I guess.” 

“Right. I’ll make sandwiches.” Then he hurried off to the kitchen (and some might say that it was a cowardly move, but Jon was not equipped to understand why two people that he liked were so awkward around each other). He moved around the space like a pro, having spent much more time in Martin’s kitchen than his own.

A few minutes later, he made his way back to Martin’s room, carefully balancing three paper plates of sandwiches and crisps. He paused just outside when he heard that both of his friends were talking to each other. He was very curious to know whether they were getting along or not. He’d hate to find out that he’d made a big mistake by bringing two parts of his life together so abruptly.

He heard Olivia’s voice first. “-cool project. What’s it for?”

For a moment it seemed like Martin wasn’t going to respond, but then he let out a soft sigh. “I’m trying to make a model.”

“Of what?”

It seemed that Martin was reluctant to answer, and Jon had to lean perilously close to the open doorway to hear properly. “A human, sort of. It’s supposed to- supposed to be for dresses.”

That seemed to catch Olivia’s interest, and Jon was relieved for about two seconds before his stomach started swooping. “Oh, that’s so cool! Do you have sisters? Jon never mentioned if you have siblings or not.”

“They’re for Jon, actually,” Martin answered. And his voice wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t full of its usual warmth. 

Jon quickly entered the room before he could hear Olivia’s response. He’d never told his school friends about the way he liked to dress sometimes in the privacy of Martin’s flat. “I’ve got food!” he announced much louder than necessary.

But apparently food wasn’t enough to deter Olivia. “You wear dresses?”

Jon felt his face heat up, and he gulped. “I-”

“And he looks really pretty in them,” Martin piped in. “So you better not-”

Olivia interrupted Martin with a wave of her hand. “What kind do you like? We’re about the same size, so you could borrow some of mine if you want. We could do a fashion show! It would be so cool!” 

She sounded so excited, and not at all bothered by the idea of Jon dressing that way, and it made his chest feel fluttery. His idiot therapist clearly had been all wrong, and he was glad that he had refused to keep seeing her after he’d ‘fired’ her. “That would be cool.” Then he handed her one of the plates before he sat down on the floor and pushed one of the other plates in front of Martin. “Want me to hold this together while you get washed up?”

Martin frowned. “So you can spend more time with Olivia?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “So that you can eat with clean hands?” He leaned closer to his friend. “Is everything alright with you?” 

Martin sighed. “Yeah. Fine. Eat your sandwich first, and then I’ll get cleaned up.” 

The next few minutes were quiet aside from the sounds of chewing, and then when Jon was done he hovered his hands over Martin’s so that he could press them down on the same spots the moment Martin pulled away. Then Martin slowly headed to the bathroom so that he could scrub the glue off of his hands. 

Olivia knelt down next to Jon, and spoke in a soft murmur that he could barely hear. “Did I do something wrong? I don’t think Martin likes me.”

Jon just shrugged. He might know Martin better than pretty much anyone, but apparently that still didn’t make him an expert. “Maybe he’s just having a bad day,” Jon offered. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Not too much later, Olivia had to leave first. “My mum is pretty strict about me being home before five,” she explained. “I’ll see you tomorrow in school, though. And it was nice to meet you, Martin.” Martin let out a grunt that sounded vaguely like ‘you too’. 

Once she was gone, Jon turned towards Martin with his hands on his hips. “What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you act like that before.”

Martin just shrugged and changed the topic with absolutely zero subtlety. “Wanna go cloud watching?”

What Jon wanted was to figure out why Martin was so upset, but he knew that pushing for answers now would be pointless. He’d ask again in a few days. For now, he just nodded, and the two of them headed out to the courtyard. They both stretched out on the ground, and stared up at the sky.

While they were lying there, Martin reached out to put his hand on top of Jon’s. “You-” he paused for a moment before trying again. “Jon, you remember that we’re married, right?”

By now, Jon was pretty sure that their little ceremony didn’t actually carry any legal weight, but he decided not to bring that part up. “Of course. Why?”

There was a very long pause before Martin responded. “No reason. As long as you remember.” 

Then they looked up at the clouds, and Jon flipped his hand over so that he could properly thread his fingers between Martin’s. “Thanks for building a model,” he said softly. Somehow he felt as though talking at normal volume would ruin something about the peaceful moment.

Martin pressed his hand a little bit tighter against Jon’s. “It’s no bother, really.” 

As they continued to look up instead of at each other, Jon silently decided that he wouldn’t be introducing Martin to his other school friends. He didn’t quite get why, but it was clear that mixing the two different parts of his life would never give him the best results. Besides, there was something nice about spending time with just Martin, and as much as he like Olivia, it just didn’t feel right to have another kid around. He was pretty sure that nice moments like this one couldn’t happen with a third wheel.


	10. A Mixed Bag

Jon almost stumbled over a root sticking up out of the ground, but Martin grabbed his elbow and managed to steady him. Jon shot Martin a grateful smile before he continued on with his story. “Anyways, then I tried to tell the teacher that she’s the one who made a mistake, but she just gave me a detention, and I thought that was the end of it. But then Christian and Olivia both started arguing on my behalf and telling her that I was right, and she ended up giving all three of us detention together.”

Martin snorted as he hopped over a medium sized rock. “I hate teachers who can’t just accept it when they’re wrong. She shouldn’t have given you guys detention.”

Jon shrugged. “No. But I guess it would have been a bit weird to make it all the way through my school years without getting a single detention.”

“Yeah, but that implies that you don’t think you’re going to get anymore detentions in the next six years.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I won’t. I’m too good.” He only said it because he knew that it would make Martin laugh. Honestly, considering Jon’s propensity to argue with teachers, it was surprising that it had taken even this long to get his first detention. “So what’s been new in your classes?” 

Even though they were in middle school now, and the same school took kids from where both of them lived, Jon’s grandmother had insisted that he go to school out of town rather than get the chance to spend more time with Martin. It sucked, but there was nothing that either of them could do about it. The only upside was that since Jon had to take a bus to school and back now, he could actually get to Martin’s sooner than when he’d walked there from his elementary school. 

Martin just shrugged in response to Jon’s question. “Not much. I think I might be failing chemistry. But my English teacher said that she really liked the poem I submitted.”

Jon paused so that he could look at Martin, who’s face started turning slightly pink. “Poem? What poem?”

Martin gulped, and then jammed his hands into his pockets as he continued walking among the trees, and Jon had to hurry a bit to catch up (thanks to Martin growing unfairly taller over the summer while Jon hadn’t grown much at all). “It’s- it’s not that great,” he mumbled.

Maybe as Martin’s friend, Jon should have just left the matter alone. But he couldn’t help thinking that Martin had sounded so proud when he’d mentioned his poem, and Jon wanted to know about anything that could make Martin sound so happy. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about it if it’s embarrassing.”

There was a few seconds as Martin thought about it, and Jon found himself practically holding his breath as he waited. When Martin finally let out a small sigh, Jon had to stop himself from cheering at the victory. “Alright, but it- it was a love poem.”

Jon tilted his head. “A love poem? Do you- do you have a crush on someone?” He wasn’t sure why that thought made his chest hurt. 

Martin looked over at Jon with exasperation, though Jon wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn that. “I’ll show it to you when we get back to my flat,” he said after a few long seconds. Then he shook his head, and his usual smile was back in place. “I’ll race you to the edge of the trees!”

The thought of falling behind and ending up alone in the woods brought up memories of a different time he’d been alone in a forest, but Jon had to remind himself that that had been an entirely different forest, and that he wouldn’t truly be alone. “You’re on!” The two of them made a run for it, and stayed surprisingly even with each other until Jon tripped and skidded across the ground. 

He winced when he felt his glasses fly off his face, and then a moment later he realized that his hands and knees were all stinging. He shifted to get a better look, and saw that he’d gotten pretty scraped up. He swore under his breath as he grabbed his glasses and shoved them back on. The frames had gotten slightly bent out of shape, but the lenses weren’t cracked, which was good.

Jon carefully got back to his feet, though his knees hurt as soon as he straightened his legs, and he leaned back against the nearest tree. “Martin!” 

His friend seemed to appear in front of him almost instantly, and he looked quite worried. “What happened?”

“I just tripped,” Jon assured him. “But I might need a bit of help here. Scraped my knees.” He reached out, and Martin automatically ducked down so that Jon could wrap his arm around Martin’s shoulders, and then Martin’s arm wrapped around Jon’s waist.

It was a bit of a struggle, but the two of them managed to hobble out of the woods, and to the nearest bus stop. Normally they would just walk home even if it was late out, but it was obvious that Jon wouldn’t be able to make it that long. So they sat on the bench and waited for the next bus.

Luckily they didn’t have to wait too long, and Jon scrounged up a couple of coins to drop into the box as they got onboard. They sat near the front so that they wouldn’t have to get past all the legs sticking out into the aisle, and rode home in silence.

They got off at the stop nearest to Jon’s house. As they made their way to the front door, Jon paused, which forced Martin to come to a halt as well. “What about your poem?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I’ll show it to you tomorrow, I promise.” Then he reached into Jon’s pocket to pull out his key to unlock the front door. He helped Jon up to his room, and got him settled onto his bed. “Where’s your first aid kit? You look like you could use a few plasters.” 

“In the mirror cabinet in the bathroom.” Then Jon flopped back as he waited for Martin to return with the kit. 

It didn’t take long, and then Martin knelt next to the bed so that he could get a better look at Jon’s knees. “This looks like it must hurt,” he said sympathetically. 

Jon stared up at the ceiling, and tried to avoid kicking his legs. “Do you remember how you ‘helped’ me with injuries when I was younger?”

He could see the way Martin’s face turned red. “Ah- yeah. Good thing we’re older and smarter now.”

“Yeah, good thing,” Jon mumbled in agreement. But he couldn’t help thinking that somehow it really had helped when Martin had kissed his injuries better. He couldn’t say that out loud, though. It was too weird. So he just bit his lip and stayed silent as Martin washed off the injuries with some anti-bacterial, and then slapped bandages over them. 

When he was done, Martin shook a couple of paracetamol out of the bottle, and started to hand them to Jon, but then stopped when he saw the clean gauze taped to Jon’s palms. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

It’s not like Jon couldn’t grab the pills with his uninjured fingertips, but something in him quite enjoyed being taken care of like this by Martin, so he just opened his mouth. Martin carefully placed the pills down on Jon’s tongue, and then grabbed the cup of water off of Jon’s bedside table to tilt it into Jon’s mouth. 

Jon could feel a small trail of water drip down from his mouth and slide down the side of his neck, and he turned his face to wipe it off with his shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. Martin.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m not a real doctor. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle your stubbornness.”

There was a mock hurt look on Jon’s face when he responded. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me?”

Martin sighed. “I would, I promise.” Then he slowly stood back up, and cleared his throat more times than should have been necessary. “Anyways, I should probably head home now and let you get some rest. Do you need anything else before I go? You probably shouldn’t try to walk around too much.”

“Can you just grab me a book? They’re over there.” He nodded towards the precariously stacked pile in the corner of his room. “Anything is fine,” he added before Martin could ask him which one he wanted.

Martin grabbed whatever was on top of the pile, and then set it down on Jon’s bedside table. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised. Then he leaned over to kiss Jon’s forehead. He jerked back almost immediately, eyes wide. “Sorry, I just- I’m so used to doing that after I tuck my mum in-”

“It’s fine, really.” It’s not as though Jon’s grandmother ever tucked him in or kissed his forehead, so he hadn’t really given it much thought before, but he found that he actually rather liked the gestures. Or maybe he just liked them because it was Martin. Either way, he didn’t think Martin had done anything wrong. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he assured his friend. Martin seemed relieved, and he babbled even as he backed out of the room. Jon listened to the sound of the front door closing, and then settled down. He definitely needed to get some rest now if he wanted to be able to make it to Martin’s tomorrow like he’d promised.

,,,

A good night’s rest worked wonders on Jon’s injuries, to the point where it was actually somewhat startling when he woke up free from pain. Not that he wanted to be in pain, of course, but still, he couldn’t help noticing that it was odd. When he peeled the bandages off, he saw the skin underneath was mottled from bruising, but there was no sign that they’d been scraped enough to bleed just the night before.

In the end, Jon decided that he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and he threw away the bandages in the bathroom trash, and then grabbed a wad of toilet paper to throw over them so that his grandmother wouldn’t see the blood. He wouldn’t want her to get any ideas into her head about forbidding him to hang out with Martin anymore.

Jon went to school, though his friends could all tell that he was distracted. During lunch, Olivia sat next to him and raised one eyebrow. “Alright, spill. What’s got you so jittery?”

And the thing was that Jon didn’t even have any good reason to be nervous. He was just going to hang out with Martin after school, and of course he enjoyed doing so, but it was still what he’d been doing almost everyday for the past six or so years. There was no reason for him to be this excited or on edge. “Nothing, honest.”

Olivia didn’t look like she believed him, as she gently grabbed his closest wrist so that she could pull it closer to herself to get a better look at his hand. “What happened?”

Everyone in their friend group seemed to be aware that Jon wouldn’t answer questions about the occasional bruise that showed up, and he didn’t want to make this one out to be any different. So he just shrugged and pulled his hand back with the excuse that he needed it to eat his lunch.

When the last bell of the day finally rang, Jon practically ran to catch the bus, and he found his leg bouncing up and down the entire ride. As soon as it got to the stop that Jon always got off at (it was just down the street from Martin’s house, but the bus driver must have assumed Jon lived nearby since it’s always where he got off), Jon hurried to Martin’s building.

He went up to the second floor, and then let himself into the unlocked flat. Jon ducked into Martin’s room, and dropped down onto Martin’s bed. “Hey.”

Martin set aside the comic he’d been reading, and sat up. “Hey, how was school?”

“Your poem,” Jon blurted out before he could stop himself. He still didn’t understand why it mattered so much, he just knew that it did. “You promised.”

If Martin thought it was strange that Jon was so eager to read the poem, he didn’t comment on it, for which Jon was grateful. He watched as Martin grabbed his backpack off the floor and pulled it up onto his lap so that he could rummage through it. He pulled out a notebook, and flipped through until he got to the right page, and then slowly held it out to Jon. “Here. Just- if you think it’s totally awful, can you at least pretend that you liked it?”

Jon wiped his hands off on the side of his pants in case they’d gotten too sweaty. “I’m sure that it’ll be brilliant, since you’re the one who wrote it.” That made Martin’s face flush, and he looked down at his hands. 

After one last deep breath, though Jon wasn’t sure why he felt like he needed to fortify himself for this, he looked down at the notebook. It was comforting to see Martin’s familiar neat penmanship instead of a typed up page. Jon’s eyes skimmed over the whole poem once, though it didn’t take very long since it was fairly short. Then he went back to reread it more carefully.

When he was done, Jon handed the notebook back, and Martin took it, though he didn’t stop staring at Jon. “It was-” Jon gulped once. “That’s beautiful, Martin. I didn’t know you could- You should be proud of that.” Sure it could use a bit of polishing, but overall it had been very good. 

For some reason, though, Martin looked disappointed for a moment before he was able to hide it, and Jon didn’t understand. He’d given genuine compliments, so what else could Martin have wanted from him? Before he could ask, though, Martin shoved the notebook back into his bag and then hopped to his feet. “You hungry? I’ll go make something.” Then he hurried off to the kitchen before Jon could ask why Martin was suddenly acting so weird. 

,,,

It was so rare for anyone to visit Jon’s place that it took him completely by surprise when he heard knocking on the front door early on a Saturday morning. Not wanting his grandmother to get woken up, which would only make her grouchy for the rest of the day, Jon pulled on his bathrobe and then hurried to see who it was.

He yanked the door open, ready to lay into whoever it was for being so noisy when the sun had just barely risen and there was an old lady still in bed, but his mouth snapped shut when he saw that it was Martin standing there. Despite how long they’d been friends, Jon could count on one hand the number of times that Martin had come here. Worry swooped through Jon’s stomach as he looked at the tear tracks on Martin’s face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Martin threw himself forward, and Jon immediately opened his arms to catch his friend and hug him. “I have to move away,” he whispered. And with those words, Jon felt his entire life crash down around him. 


	11. Farewell and Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about not updating this last week. First it was vacation, and I have trouble writing when I'm not at school, and second, I got a new tattoo right on the inside of my elbow, so I couldn't bend my arm enough to type for a few days. To make up for it, the next chapter after this one (chapter 12) is going to be longer than usual

One of Jon’s friends had suggested that he throw a giant farewell party for Martin, but Jon was pretty sure that Martin wouldn’t appreciate such a thing. Or maybe he would, but only if it was just the two of them. While Martin was able to get along civilly enough with Jon’s school friends on the rare occasions that they interacted (which probably happened more often than anyone told him, since Jon was the only one not going to the same school as all of them), it was still obvious that Martin preferred to not be around them. He had a few friends that he mentioned on occasion, but nobody that he’d ever tried to introduce Jon to.

So Jon got it into his head that he would throw a farewell party, but he would only invite Martin to it. He knew his grandmother wouldn’t be happy at the prospect of a party being thrown in her house, but when he clasped his hands together and begged, she finally gave in (though Jon suspected that it was just because she was happy to see Martin leaving, and it put her in a generous mood. Whatever it was that made her agree, Jon wasn’t going to argue with it). 

Jon’s grandmother said that she’d be up in her room, and that if they did anything loudly enough to disturb her, she’d send Martin home. Since it was probably Jon’s last chance to see Martin again, there was no way that he was going to risk cutting that time short, so he made sure to only plan on quiet activities.

When Martin finally knocked on the door, just a few minutes before when Jon had told him to be there, Jon felt like he was practically vibrating out of his skin with nerves. This was his only real shot at saying goodbye to Martin, and he wanted to make sure that everything went perfectly. Though knowing his luck, he was afraid that that was an impossible thing to ask for.

When he heard the knocking at the front door, Jon tried not to think about the bad news that had been brought last time he’d had a visitor. He swallowed down his nerves, took a deep breath, and then opened the door before long enough could pass that it would just get awkward.

Martin stood on the front step, hands clasped behind his back as he shifted on his feet. “Hey.”

“Hey.” They both just stared at each other for a few seconds before Jon suddenly remembered his manners, and he stepped aside so that he could motion for Martin to come in. “Make yourself at home.” That was a thing that adults tended to say, wasn’t it? But why did he even need to say it in the first place? When had things ever been this awkward and stilted between Jon and Martin? Probably not since the very beginning of their friendship, though Jon couldn’t remember anything specific from back then that had been anything like this. “So… Do you need anything to drink?”

Martin gave Jon a look of disbelief, and then he just shook his head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.” Clearly Martin could feel the strange tenseness in the air as well, which only made things worse. Jon knew and accepted that he was a pretty awkward person pretty much all the time, but when Martin was awkward too, that’s how he knew that it was a real problem. 

Just to have something to do, Jon went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for himself, and he gulped it all down. When he turned around to head back out to the living room, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Martin standing right in front of him. “Oh, did you- did you need-?”

“I’m not happy that I have to move away, either, you know. I thought you invited me over so we could hang out and have a fun time together since it might be awhile before we can see each other again, but you’re just acting weird. If it’s easier on you for us to not say any goodbyes, then I can just-”

“No!” Jon shook his head as he interrupted, desperate to keep Martin from leaving. Having to say goodbye at all was already unbearable, but not getting the chance to do so would be infinitely worse. He gulped as Martin just stared at him, waiting for him to say something else. Jon cleared his throat a few times before he could speak. “I want to have fun today too. I just- I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “Remember when we were younger and we got ‘married’? I mean, obviously that wasn’t legally binding or anything, but still, this feels like- like getting a divorce or something.”

For some reason, that made Martin smile, and it didn’t even have the same sad tinge that had accompanied most of his smiles since he’d gotten the news. “This isn’t a divorce, Jon.” He took a step forward so that he was close enough to reach out and take both of Jon’s hands. “A divorce is for when people stop wanting to be together, but I don’t want to go. If I was old enough, I’d just stay here and live on my own, but I can’t.” He frowned as he thought about whatever argument must have taken place between him and his mother, but then he shook that thought aside and focused on Jon again. “Even if it was just a stupid kid thing, it meant the world to me then. And- and it still does now. Jon, I think that I…” Martin trailed off, and swayed forward so that he was even closer to Jon.

Suddenly it felt like they were too close, and the air between them was far too heavy. They were only twelve years old, and talking about things like marriage and divorces was supposed to be for adults only, and- and Jon didn’t know a lot of things, but (thanks to some insight from his friends) Jon had figured out that the way he felt around Martin was different than the way he felt around anyone else, and he was pretty sure that it was the same for Martin. They had such a brilliant friendship, even if it had started with Martin abducting Jon off the street, and Jon didn’t want to ever lose that.

But he was still just a kid, in the end, and he had no control over this situation. The truth of the matter was that he was probably going to never get the chance to see Martin again, with too much distance between them for a long walk or a bus ride. And there didn’t seem to be any chance that his grandmother or Martin’s mum would want to help their wards see each other.

So as the air between him and Martin seemed to grow heavier and heavier, Jon knew that he needed to break the tension, for his own sanity. What would be the point in confessing something that he didn’t even fully understand yet, when it would be to a person that there was all but no chance of seeing again? Saying everything out loud would only make it hurt worse when Jon lost Martin. And besides, he didn’t even know exactly what he would say. Emotions were difficult and confusing, and all Jon knew was that he was infinitely grateful to have met Martin. Then again, maybe that was enough.

Jon pulled his hands free, and ducked past Martin so that he could go back to the living room. He purposely didn’t look back, not wanting to see if Martin looked hurt or not. Then he plopped down on the couch, and waited patiently for Martin to follow suit. 

Before Martin could say anything, Jon pulled over the stack of board games that he’d gathered and put down on the coffee table in advance. “So, what do you want to play?”

Martin gave Jon a very long look, as if he was somehow trying to read Jon’s mind. With the amount of determination Martin was capable of wielding, Jon wouldn’t have been too surprised to find out that Martin had actually figured out how to read minds. But after several long seconds, he just sighed and twisted around so that his back was up against the arm of the couch. “Definitely not Monopoly. Nobody likes that game.”

Jon snorted. “True. It probably goes against the laws of the Geneva Convention to make anybody play it.”

When Martin laughed, the air around the two boys lightened, and Jon felt more at ease. If this was the last day he would get with his best friend, then he was absolutely going to enjoy every minute of it.

,,,

Martin’s mum was supposed to pick him up after dinner, since she apparently didn’t want him walking home alone in the dark (even though she never seemed to care when Jon walked home alone in the dark all the time). Jon hoped that she wouldn’t look too sick when she showed up, because he thought that it would be easier to hate her if she looked whole and healthy. It’s not like he had anyone else he could blame for taking Martin away from him. 

But they still had a little bit of time until she was supposed to show up, and Jon was desperate to make the most of it. He pulled out a pack of balloons, and he and Martin had a grand time blowing them all up with the little helium pump that had come with them. They also had fun breathing in some of the balloons and talking to each other in ridiculously squeaky voices. Once their voices returned to normal, they started batting balloons at each other in some equivalent of a pillow fight. 

Then they held their own poetry slam, where they took turns cheering each other on while Martin read some of his own work, and Jon read from a thick tome of poetry that he’d knicked off his grandmother’s shelf. Jon had also prepared a tape recording of an audience clapping and whistling, and made sure to press the play button every time Martin finished. 

“You are the winner!” Jon declared, and then he grabbed a can of whipped cream from the fridge and held it out to Martin like it was a grand trophy. Wrapped around the label was a piece of paper that said ‘NUMBER 1’ on it in neat block letters. 

Martin grinned as he suddenly darted forward to snatch Jon’s glasses right off his face, and then made a run for it. Jon blinked in confusion for just a moment before chasing after Martin. They ended up out in the back garden, where Martin waited in ambush. As soon as Jon turned the corner around the side of the house, there was a giant stream of whipped cream all over him. 

Martin shamelessly held the half empty can as he laughed at whatever look Jon must have been displaying. Jon lunged forward and ended up wrestling Martin for the can, and once he’d successfully liberated it, he sprayed the rest of the contents onto Martin.

Both of them were a sugary, sticky mess, but they were breathless from laughter and exhaustion, and it was wonderful. Instead of immediately retreating back inside to get washed up, Martin carefully laid down on the grass, and motioned for Jon to join him.

Once they were both settled on the ground, Martin pulled Jon’s glasses out of his pocket and handed them over. Jon was glad that they’d been spared from the sugar war. He wiped his hands off on his pants as best he could before taking the glasses and sliding them on. They stared up at the sky, which was just starting to get dark, and both of them ignored the chill in the evening air. 

There were still so many things that Jon didn’t want to ever say, but he knew that he’d regret it forever if he didn’t say anything at all. The moment was so peaceful, and it felt like the kind of moment where something needed to be shared. “I’m going to really miss you,” he practically whispered. 

Martin reached out, and for a moment Jon thought he was going to hold his hand, but instead he just put it down on the grass next to Jon’s hand so that their pinkies were just barely touching. “I’m going to miss you too. I don’t know what our new address is yet, but I know your address, so I can write to you all the time. Will you write back?”

Jon nodded earnestly, even though he knew that Martin was still staring straight up at the sky and probably couldn’t see the gesture. “Of course. We’ll write so many letters that the postmen will memorize our addresses, and we’ll have to take out loans to pay for all of the stamps.”

Martin laughed, but it was a much quieter noise than his usual infectious laughter. When his laughter tapered off, he turned his head to the side to meet Jon’s eyes. “We’ll see each other again someday.” 

There was so much confidence in Martin’s voice that it was hard to believe he couldn’t somehow see the future. “How do you know?”

Martin shrugged. “Because I can’t stand the thought of this being it.” His voice wobbled for a moment, and Jon understood exactly how that felt, at least.

Even though Jon didn’t want to say certain words, and summon certain feelings into existence when there was no point, he was the one that shifted his hand to rest on top of Martin’s. Maybe the words didn’t need to be said anyways. Not when the two of them had been saying it for years without ever having to open their mouths. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jon agreed. “We’ll have to see each other again someday.”

Eventually they had to get up so that they could wash off the dried whipped cream, and then Martin’s mum showed up. She didn’t even come up to the front door, just beeped her horn impatiently from the driveway. Jon opened his mouth to say goodbye, but he didn’t have enough breath to because Martin suddenly wrapped his arms around Jon in the tightest hug possible.

Jon reached up to return the hug, and they stood there like that for several long seconds before they finally, reluctantly, pried themselves apart. “Don’t say goodbye,” Martin practically begged. “We’ll see each other again, remember?”

Jon nodded. “This isn’t goodbye, then.” He paused for a moment to think about the right words to say. He thought of the many years he’d spent leaving Martin to return to his own home, and he realized that even though it wasn’t true, there was only one thing he could really say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The smile that Martin gave him was brilliant, and Jon wished he had a camera so that he could capture that moment and look at it for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, he would just have to rely on his memories. 

Martin suddenly leaned over to kiss the top of Jon’s head, and then he backed away as his face started to turn a bright red. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon.” His voice had a promise in it, and Jon knew Martin well enough to know he’d stick to his word. This wasn’t the end for them. 

But even knowing that, as Jon watched Martin jog to his mum’s car, he found it impossible to hold in the tears that had been straining his eyes since he’d opened the door for Martin earlier in the day. He waited, not wanting Martin to feel worse, and only closed the front door once the car was out of sight. Then he turned around and slid down to the floor, knees pulled up to his chest as he started to sob. Maybe he would see Martin again someday, but that didn’t stop this day from hurting so much.

,,,

Jon waited eagerly for his first letter from Martin. He figured that it might take a couple of weeks for Martin to get properly settled into his new home, and from there it would take about a week or so for a letter to be delivered, but Jon could be patient. 

Two weeks passed. Then three, then four. When three months went by and there was still no word from Martin, Jon accepted defeat. For the first time that he could remember, Martin had lied to him. Jon should have said goodbye when he had the chance. 


	12. A New Era

Martin could feel how much his hands were sweating, and he took a moment to wipe them off on the side of his pants for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Honestly, it seemed like he was more likely to get caught just for acting so nervous than for anything else. He wished that he could just be a better liar. 

For now, though, Martin was determined to at least make it through his first day at the new job without getting fired or arrested. If he could make it through today, then maybe he actually had a chance at staying here long term, and making enough money to take care of both himself and his mother. 

He could do this. He had to do this. So Martin took a deep breath, and then walked through the front doors and into the ornate lobby that looked more like it should belong to a museum than a research institute. Martin took a moment to look around, since he’d had an interview over the phone to get the job, and this was his first time physically entering the building.

After taking in everything he could, Martin realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to be going. He didn’t even know which floor of the building the researchers worked on. So even though he felt like a bit of an idiot, Martin went up to the main desk, and gave a polite, but awkward, smile to the man sitting behind it. He somehow found it comforting that the man was leaning back in his chair, with his legs crossed over each other and his feet resting on the edge of the desk. “Uh, hello. My name is Martin Blackwood, and I’m supposed to be starting in the research department today, and I-”

The man behind the desk let his feet drop down to the floor with a soft thud. “Oh, hello! I’m Michael, pleasure to meet you. I’d heard that we were getting a new researcher since Molly left, but I’m usually down in the basement, so I don’t really get to meet a lot of new people!”

Martin paused for a moment, taken slightly aback by the man’s friendliness, but then he recovered enough to reach out and offer a hand to shake. “I’m Martin.”

Michael snickered. “I know, you already said that.”

Martin felt his face grow hot, and wondered if it was too late to turn around and run outside and never return. He shouldn’t even be here at all, considering just how false his pretenses were, but especially not if he couldn’t handle something as simple as introducing himself to his new coworkers.

Michael must have taken pity on him, because he offered a genuine smile. “I can show you to the researching department. I’m actually an old veteran of the place myself.”

That got Martin curious, since Michael looked like he could only be a few years older than Martin was. “How long have you been working here?”

“Well, I started with an unpaid internship in highschool, working down in the archives. Trust me, that’s the coolest place in the building, and I never understand why so many people refuse to work down there. Anyways, after I was done with high school I left for university, and then applied for a full time position here once I graduated, and I got a job in research. I was there for like six months before Gertrude- the Head Archivist- found me and asked me to come back down to the basement. Well, I say asked, but it’s more like she told me. I think her exact words were ‘You’re not entirely incompetant, so you won’t be wasting your time up here’. Anyways, that was about thireen years ago at this point that I got officially hired, so nearly twenty years since I first stepped foot in this building. And now I feel old.”

Martin opened his mouth to apologize (even though he didn’t know what exactly he should be apologizing for), but Michael moved ahead so quickly that Martin didn’t get the chance to say anything. Which was probably for the best. 

They got onto the elevator together, and even though they didn’t say anything else as they went up, the silence didn’t feel any more awkward than any other silences Martin had experienced. Maybe this new job wouldn’t be so bad if everyone was as friendly and welcoming as Michael was.

When the elevator let them off on the third floor, Michael led Martin to the end of the hallway, which opened up into a giant room with bookcases lining every wall and desks scattered around seemingly at random. There didn’t seem to be any particular method of order or organization anywhere in the vast space. 

Martin reached forward to tug on Michael’s sleeve so that he could stop the other man for just a moment. “Sorry, it’s just- I know you probably need to get back to your own desk soon, but I just need a moment to catch my breath. All of this is just so much to take in, you know?”  
The wide grin that Michael gave him made Martin feel far more at ease than a simple smile should have been able to do. “It’s not a problem. Abby and Benoit, the other two archival assistants, already think I’m a lazy bum, so skiving off for a few extra minutes can’t exactly make my reputation worse. Take as much time as you need.” 

Grateful for the reprieve, Martin took a minute just to breathe and calm himself down. He could still feel how grossly sweaty his palms were, but he knew that he couldn’t just wait in the entranceway forever. He had been hired to actually do a job, as nerve wracking as it might be. 

Like he’d promised, though, Michael waited patiently until Martin gave a small nod to show that he was ready to venture further into the large room that took up the majority of the third floor. “I don’t know which desk is supposed to be yours, exactly, but I’m also assuming that you should probably talk to Evira first. She’s the Head Researcher, and your boss’ boss. I don’t know who your direct supervisor is supposed to be. Were you given a name after you were hired?”

It took Martin a moment to actually remember the information. “Er, yes, I believe it was Crystal Martins? I remember because her second name is my first name.”

Michael laughed. “That will either makes things a little simpler for you, or it will make everything incredibly difficult. Anyways, I’ve only spoken with Crystal a couple of times before, but she always seemed nice enough to me, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you get settled in. Getting a new job anywhere can be a bit of an anxiety-producer, but the Magnus Institute is definitely not an easy to adjust to place. Oh, and just a bit of a warning- if you ever go to artifact storage, make sure you bring a buddy and use the walkie talkies. They’re by the door for a reason. We’ve already lost too many interns to that damn room.”

Martin frowned and gave Michael a searching look. Surely he wasn’t serious, right? Of course Martin knew that the Magnus Institute was a place that was meant to research the paranormal, and Martin definitely believed that the supernatural was real, but his workplace didn’t actually have a room that killed people, did it? He opened his mouth to ask, really hoping that Michael would just laugh it off, but was interrupted by a voice calling out from across the room. “Hey, Michael! What are you doing up here? I thought that you basement-dwellers were too good for us common research folk?”

Michael grinned and gave Martin a friendly pat on the shoulder before forcibly propelling him over to the guy who’d spoken. “Tim, it’s a pleasure to see you, as always.” The way he winked, and then the way that Tim and Michael stared at each other gave Martin a few curious ideas about their relationship, but then he didn’t have time to ask because the two men started talking. “I was just showing the new guy around.”

Tim gave Martin an assessing look, and then stuck out one hand. “Hey, there, nice to meet you. I’m Tim Stoker, one of the research supervisors. You’re going to be in Crystal’s group, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

Martin accepted the handshake, and hoped that Tim couldn’t tell just how damp Martin’s palm was. “Uh- yeah. It’s uh- it’s nice to meet you too. So where is Crystal? I feel like I should probably check in with her so that she can tell me what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Tim and Michael both craned their heads to look around the room, and then both of them seemed to spot Martin’s new supervisor at the same time. “Right over there. The woman with the blue hair.” Tim leaned in closer to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “You’d never guess it, but that isn’t actually her natural look.”

That got a startled little laugh out of Martin, and it helped him let out some of the tension that he’d been feeling all morning. “I’ll be sure not to mention it,” he whispered back. Then he cleared his throat, and spoke at a normal volume. “Anyways, I should probably go introduce myself.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me around. Even though the research is divided up into separate departments, we all still work in the same space. If you have any questions, just feel free to come up to me and ask,” Tim assured him. “Seriously, feel free. I am always happy to have an excuse to be distracted from my work.”

Michael reached out to give Tim a friendly slug to the shoulder. “Hey, don’t start dragging everyone else down with your bad work habits.” He looked amused as he turned back to Martin. “Just ignore him. He’s a terrible worker. Anyways, I should probably get down to the archives before Gertrude has a heart attack. She’s too old for the stress of chasing after her assistants. I’ll see you around, though!” Then he hurried off, a bit of a skip in his step. 

Martin managed to make his way over to his new boss without tripping over anything or doing anything else that would make him look like a complete idiot on his first day. That was definitely something he didn’t need. Not that anyone did need that, but in Martin’s case, drawing too much attention to himself brought the risk of someone figuring out that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Crystal looked up once Martin got closer to her desk. He saw that despite the vibrant blue of her hair, and the many piercings she sported all across her face, she was clearly much older than Martin. Maybe even old enough to be his mum. He couldn’t recall ever meeting another old person that dressed so much like a young person.

Martin cleared his throat as he stuck out his hand towards her. “Good morning. I’m Martin Blackwood.”

“Ah, of course. You would not believe how glad I am to meet you. We’ve been understaffed for ages, but Elias has finally agreed to raise the research budget enough that we could take on a few new hires. You’re the first, but there should be about four or five others coming in over the next few weeks. So please try to bear with me if a lot of information ends up getting repeated, or missed until the next newbie asks about it.” She clapped her hands together just once, but the noise was loud enough to startle Martin, and he couldn’t tell if he was jumpy because of nerves, the extra tea he’d had earlier, or just a general feeling that he was ill-prepared to work in this place (and not just because of his lack of qualifications). “Let’s find you an empty desk so that you can start to get settled in. I’ll assign someone to be your buddy for your first few days until you get the hang of everything. I know research sounds fairly straightforward, but believe me, nothing in this Institute is ever as easy as it seems like it should be.”

Martin hadn’t thought to bring any personal things with him to work on his very first day, so he didn’t really have much to do at his new desk other than sit and whistle for a few minutes while he waited for his new ‘buddy’ to show up. When she finally came rushing over, she was carrying a cup holder with two drinks in it. “I’m sorry I’m late! The line at the coffee shop was weirdly long this morning!”

Martin gave her a small smile. “Eh, that’s alright. I’m Martin-”

“Blackwood, yes, I know.” She carefully set the paper cups down on the desk. “I’m Sasha James. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, at least over the next few days, so I had been hoping to start this day off right.” She pulled one of the cups free and held it out to Martin. “I’m not sure what you like, but I got you some earl grey.”

Even though that wasn’t his favorite tea, it was still a good one, and Martin eagerly accepted the offering. “Thanks.” He took a sip, and then immediately had to refrain from spitting it out or coughing because of how hot it was. He sheepishly set the cup back on the desk before looking up at Sasha. “So where should we get started?”   
,,,

It didn’t take long for Martin to fall into the routine of working at the Magnus Institute. It was almost surprising for him to realize how much he enjoyed working there. He really, really hoped that nobody was ever going to give his resume a second look as long as he kept his head low and did what he was paid to do.

One of the things Martin liked best about the Institute was the other people. They were all friendly and happy to help whenever Martin had a question, though he found himself particularly fond of Tim and Sasha. At first, Martin would take his lunch break with one of them at a time, but after a few weeks, all three of them started spending most of their lunch breaks together, and it was awesome. Then, over a month after Martin had started working at the Institute, Tim had suggested that they go to the pub together after work that Friday. It was the happiest that Martin had been in a very long time, and he tried his best not to think about the many things in his life that were less than ideal.

When they walked into the pub, Tim paused in the doorway, and then let out an exaggerated sigh. Sasha glanced at Martin, who just shrugged, and then she looked at Tim. “What? It’s surprisingly not that crowded for a Friday night.”

Tim shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s that we’ll have to get out of here before they start the Friday night trivia, because  _ that  _ guy is here, and he always wins when he’s here.”

Sasha snorted. “So how many times have you competed against him and gotten your ego bruised?”

Martin only paid half his attention to Tim and Sasha’s teasing, as the rest of his focus was on trying to spot whoever Tim had pointed out. Martin assumed, based on the direction Tim had been looking in, that it was the guy standing near the bar. Even from the doorway, Martin could see the look of impatient irritation on the man’s face.

But despite his impatience he didn’t do or say anything particularly rude to the bartender, which was good. Satisfied that the guy wasn’t a complete jerk, Martin let himself take in more details, and found that it was already far too late to convince himself that he wasn’t interested.

The man had long black hair with a few streaks of grey tied in a long braid that was draped over one shoulder, and he had a pair of square glasses perched on his nose. He was wearing a soft looking jumper with the collar of a more professional shirt sticking up over the top, and a long flowy skirt that stopped just above his ankles. Martin could see the way the man was getting some dirty looks from a few other customers, but the man seemed entirely oblivious to his surroundings.

Martin was abruptly yanked out of his observations when Tim threw his arm around Martin’s shoulder and let out a loud laugh right in Martin’s ear. “Oh ho ho, what’s this? Have we finally figured out your deepest, darkest secret?”

“Wha- what?”

Tim grinned. “That you’re attracted to asshole know-it-alls?” 

Martin felt his cheeks heat up, and he quickly shrugged out of Tim’s grasp so that he could hurry towards an open booth. He heard Sasha reprimanding Tim for teasing him, but he could hear the tinge of amusement in her words too. 

Once they were all settled in their seats, Martin tried his best to not look over at the bar again. It was one thing to take a moment to appreciate someone’s appearance, but it was an entirely different thing to just keep staring creepily at them. 

He cleared his throat, and looked at Tim, who was sitting across from Martin and Sasha. “So what do you recommend?”

Tim just shrugged. “Eh, get whatever you want. It’s all shit anyways.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Why would you invite us to a pub where you don’t even like the drinks?” Then she got that gleam in her eyes that always meant trouble for the person she was talking to. “Unless maybe you were just projecting on Martin, and you’re actually the one with a crush on trivia guy?”

Tim scoffed. “Yeah right. I’ve got way better taste than that. No offense, Martin.”

“How is that not meant to be offensive?” Sasha asked on Martin’s behalf, and Martin just tried to sink right through the bench and into the ground, though for some reason it didn’t work that well. Then Sasha barreled on before Tim could respond to her question. “Anyways, he looks like a perfectly nice guy.”

All three of them turned to look at the bar at the same time, but the guy must have already gotten his drink and returned to his seat, because he was no longer in sight. Tim slumped back in his seat. “Yeah, he looks nice, but as soon as you talk to him even once, you realize the truth. I’m pretty sure he’s actually like some kind of demon in disguise or something.”

Martin snorted. “Considering where we work, should we be worried that you actually believe that?”

“No, no.” Then he suddenly slid out of the booth and hopped to his feet. “Anyways, the first round’s on me. We’ve got to celebrate Martin surviving his first month at the Institute!” 

After that, all talk of the mysterious trivia guy was forgotten, and the three of them just focused on talking, laughing, drinking, and having fun. Maybe it was a bit pathetic to admit, but it was probably one of the most fun days Martin had ever had. 

,,,

It was nearly half a year after Martin had been hired that he was called into Crystal’s office. Each step felt like his feet were falling down far too heavily, and he wanted to avoid actually reaching his destination. He’d gone to Crystal a few times in the past, but he’d never been summoned to see her, and he was freaking out on the inside. What if this was the end? He was going to get fired, or maybe even arrested, for lying on his resume, which was something he hadn’t even thought about in months. 

When he finally reached the office, he had to clench his hands into fists and shove them into his pockets to stop himself from trembling. He paused in confusion, though, when he saw an old lady sitting across from Crystal. “Er, you wanted to see me?”

Crystal gave him a friendly smile that helped relax him a bit. Surely no one would smile like that at somebody they were about to fire, right? “Ah, yes, Martin, come in, come in. I don’t think you two have ever had a reason to meet before, but this is Gertrude Robinson, our Head Archivist. Why don’t you take a seat, and then Gertrude can explain why she’s here?”

Martin sank down into the remaining open chair, and then stared at Gertrude blankly. She gave him a long look that felt like she was trying to stare right into his soul, and then offered him a smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Unfortunately, one of my assistants recently quit without any notice, leaving me in need of a new one. I’ve been to all of the research supervisors to see what they’ve got to offer, and Crystal recommended you.”

“He’s not been here for very long, but he’s already proven himself to be a talented and dedicated worker,” Crystal threw in.

Gertrude gave Crystal what almost seemed to be an annoyed look before she shifted her attention back to Martin. “Working in the archives would come with a raise, and would involve more hands-on, in-depth research.”

Martin thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. “Ah, thank you for the offer, really, but I don’t think I can accept. I’m happy with where I am right now, and I don’t really want to move around when I’ve just gotten settled in up here.”

The look in Gertrude’s gaze was so sharp that Martin was afraid it would somehow cut right through him, but then the intensity fell away, leaving an innocent little old lady. “Very well. I suppose I will just have to keep searching for Michael’s replacement.”

Martin’s eyes widened, and he blurted out before he could stop himself, “Michael? Michael Shelley?”

He regretted saying anything, since it meant that Gertrude’s intense stare was back to burning a hole through him. “Why do you ask?”

Martin gulped. “It’s just that he- he and I were friends, I suppose. I can’t believe he’d just quit without saying anything, not when he was always so proud of the history he had with this place.”

If it was possible for anyone to set another person on fire with their mind, Martin was pretty sure that Gertrude Robinson would be the one to discover the ability. He couldn’t stop him from squirming under her stare, and was pathetically grateful when she finally spoke again. “Yes, it was a shame to lose someone with so much enthusiasm for their job.” Then she swept out of the office without another word.

Crystal didn’t seem disturbed by anything that had just happened. “I can’t blame you for turning down the offer. As much as I love working here, something about the archives has always creeped me out. Anyways, you can get back to your work now, Martin.”

But as he shuffled back to his desk, Martin found his thoughts too preoccupied to focus on the work that he still needed to get done, and the rest of the afternoon ended up being wasted. There was something very strange about Gertrude Robinson, and Martin sincerely hoped that he would never have to figure out what. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, the rest of the story will be Martin's pov
> 
> Also, I wrote a lot of this while tired, so please lmk if there are any glaring typos or errors!


	13. A Certain Type

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that Martin's mother says some really nasty things to him

Martin knew that the smile on his face looked stiff and awkward, but there was nothing he could do to fix it. It’s the same smile that he always ended up plastering on when he went to visit his mum. Normally he wouldn’t come in person, considering what usually happened, but since his mum had refused to take any of his calls in a while, he was worried about her, and he needed to see for himself that she was doing as well as she could be.

There was a sympathetic look on the face of the nurse who signed Martin in, and he did his best to ignore it. He didn’t need any sympathy from anyone. Sure, his mother could be… aggressive, and tended to say hurtful things without thinking, but she was still his mother, and Martin loved her and was glad that she was still around. 

He made his way down the hallway that always surprised him by being bright and colorful instead of the sterile white of a normal hospital. This place was a lot more expensive than a government-run facility, but it was worth it because it was such a lovely place.

When Martin finally reached the door to his mum’s room, he paused for a moment and took a few deep breaths before reaching out to knock. When there was a grumble that sounded vaguely like ‘come in’, Martin pushed the door open, and slowly shuffled over to the bed that was centered against the far wall. There was a tray of food on the table that went over the bed, and it seemed like she’d hardly touched any of it. “Good afternoon, Mum. How are you doing?”

It seemed to take a moment for her to recognize Martin, but once she did, her features all twisted up in a grotesque scowl. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Martin gulped, and then tried to force his mouth into showing a more genuine smile. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. We haven’t talked in a while, and I know that you didn’t have an easy time getting adjusted here, so I just-”

“Just what? It’s not as if there’s anything you could do for me, after locking me up in this hell pit. I thought I told you that I never wanted to see your ugly face here again. Acting all brave and valiant when you’re just like every other kid that takes care of their parents so that they can look good to their friends. Why would I want to see the face of a man who’s probably just as big a whore as his father and just as-”  
“Mum!” Martin had to interrupt, but then he forced himself to take some more deep breaths before he continued. He didn’t want to get into a yelling match with his mother. He knew that it wasn’t her fault she was like this, it was just because she was sick and miserable. It had nothing to do with Martin himself. “I didn’t lock you in here, Mum, remember? You’re the one who said you wanted to be taken care of by professionals.” It had hurt, a lot, when she’d made that announcement to him, but he’d accepted that he could never give her the full time care that she needed while also working enough to support them both, so he’d given in. 

His mother just scoffed. “Well it was a better idea than sitting around and letting you put your disgusting hands all over me. You’re a disgrace of a child. Always making it so obvious that you’re just a giant fa-”

“Mother, please!” Martin interrupted again, voice full of more pleading than he wanted it to be. He could still remember the speech she’d given him when he’d brought his first high school boyfriend home to meet her, and he was certainly not in the mood to hear it again all these years later. He moved closer to her bed, talking as he did so. “I’m just here because I care about you, and I want to make sure that you’re alright. You know that I-” He reached out to gently take one of her hands once he was close enough, but she immediately jerked her arm away, and Martin cut himself off. He just stared at her, and wondered why he still felt so hurt by her actions. Shouldn’t he be used to them by now?

She just tipped her head back so that she could give the illusion of staring down at Martin despite the fact that he would still be much taller than her even if she was standing up and not sitting in bed. “As if I’d let you touch me,” she practically growled. “A gross little man like you. No, you’re not even a man. You’re just a- a- some kind of monster or something, and when you die you’re going to rot in hell for eternity!”

Martin pressed his lips together, and squeezed his eyes shut as he begged God for patience. He wasn’t even a particularly religious man, but he figured that if anyone could help him when it came to his mother, it would probably be an all-powerful deity. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at his mother, and saw that she was just a sick, frail old woman, and there was nothing to be gained by fighting with her. He sighed, and felt as his shoulders slumped down. “I’m going to go now, but it was nice to see you. Maybe the next time I call, you could pick up? Even if it’s just to complain about this place, I’d love to hear from you.”

Instead of any kind of confirmation that she’d heard him, Martin got a face full of peas for his trouble. At least it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be easily washed off. He just sighed again, and then walked back over to the door. “Yeah, that’s right, get out of here!” his mother shrieked. “Run away like the coward you are!”

Martin opened his mouth, then closed it again and took one last deep breath before saying in a quiet voice, “I’m glad to see that you’re doing well, Mum.” Then he hurried off, closing her door behind him. 

He kept his face blank as he signed out at the front desk and headed out to the parking lot, but as soon as he got into his car, he slammed the door shut and then dropped his head down onto the steering wheel. His shoulders shook as he started sobbing. What the hell was wrong with him that even his own mother couldn’t stand to even look at him, let alone love him?

,,,

Apparently Martin wasn’t as great at pretending everything was alright as he thought he was, because Tim was quick to approach him Friday afternoon. “Hey, is everything alright? You’ve been kinda down all week, and Sasha said we should just give you some space, but it’s been an entire week. What’s going on with you? You know that you can talk to us about anything, right?”

Martin sighed as he slumped back in his seat. “It’s just- well I didn’t- I mean I’m fine.”

Tim arched one eyebrow, and crossed his arms over his chest. “No offense, Martin, but I’m pretty sure that you are the worst liar in the entire history of mankind. Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you. You have the right to keep your secrets. But you don’t have the right to refuse when I offer you a way to cheer you up.”

Then it was Martin’s turn to raise one eyebrow as he stared up at Tim, already feeling apprehensive because of the gleam in Tim’s eyes. “And how exactly do you plan on cheering me up?”

The grin on Tim’s face grew, and for a moment Martin wondered if Tim was some kind of spooky smiling demon, because he certainly looked like he was cooking up some kind of evil plan. He threw his head back dramatically and practically shouted, “We’re going to the pub!”

His announcement was met with silence and a blank stare, but he just kept waiting so Martin felt like he had to say something. “And why exactly would going to a pub cheer me up? You realize that I prefer quiet nights in, right?”

“Ah, but I didn’t just say any old pub now, did I? No, I said  _ the _ pub. And since you are clearly failing to grasp the difference, let me clarify for you. When I say ‘the pub’, I mean the pub in which I saw you get so thoroughly flustered over a guy that you didn’t even say a single word to. Remember? It was only a couple of weeks ago, so I’m sure that you haven’t forgotten.”

And just like that, Tim’s words brought up a clear memory of that night a few weeks back. Sasha had begged off of their usual Friday night drinking, declaring that she’d actually managed to snag a date with that cute girl from the coffee shop down the street, so it had just been Martin and Tim. They’d ended up staying a little bit later than usual, and then the weekly trivia tournament had begun. Tim said that he was feeling lazy, but if Martin was willing to bring their slips up to the announcer after every question, then they could participate in the game. One of the rounds, Martin had gone to bring up the papers, and had seen the guy that was supposedly Tim’s rival. They’d both reached for a new slip at the same time, and their hands had brushed together, giving Martin a perfect idea of just how soft and well-manicured those hands were (as if the impeccable unchipped purple paint on the nails didn’t already give at least part of that away). 

Martin, who’d already had a couple of drinks at that point, knew that his face must have turned bright red as he pulled his hand away and started stammering so badly that he didn’t manage to get out a single coherent word. The guy had given Martin a strange look, and then backed away, and he hadn’t shown up at any of the trivia nights since then, at least not that Martin had been able to notice.

Martin just rolled his eyes at Tim’s half-baked idea. “He hasn’t even shown up since then, so I doubt that anything particularly wonderful will happen while we’re there.”

Tim’s eyes widened, and he pointed his finger at Martin accusingly. “Aha! So you admit that you were looking for him!”

“You usually end up looking for him too, Tim. Remember you said that you need to make sure your rival isn’t around before you can play?” Then Martin tilted his head to the side as he considered something that hadn’t really occurred to him before. “If he’s always on the winning team, then you must have heard his name get announced at some point, right?”

Tim shook his head. “Nope. I don’t know who else is on his team, but they always name themselves the Mechanisms. No idea what that’s supposed to mean. But we should still go anyways. Even if he doesn’t show up, we can still have a fun night out. Just us guys.” At Martin’s confused look, the corner of Tim’s mouth curved up. “Sasha’s got another date. At this point, I think we might have to accept that things are getting serious with coffee girl.” Then he leaned over Martin with a pleading look on his face. “Come on, please? I promise that we’ll have fun and get your mind off of whatever’s been bugging you all week. Don’t make me beg, because I will if I have to.”

Mostly for the sake of avoiding any embarrassing moments of Tim acting weird in front of the rest of the researchers, but also partly because it actually did sound like a good idea to stick to their usual routine, Martin found himself giving in. “Alright, alright. But we’re not going to be staying out too late this time, and I mean it, Tim!”

Tim jumped up and pumped his fist through the air. “Yes sir!” Then he hurried back to his desk in a last minute attempt to actually get some work done before they headed out for the weekend.

,,,

A few drinks in, and Martin found himself leaning back and relaxing in their usual booth. “And then she threw her peas at my head,” he admitted in a low voice. 

Tim winced, and then reached across the table to pat Martin’s hand. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” Martin was grateful that Tim didn’t try to suggest that he stop visiting his mother entirely. “Hey, I’m just gonna run to the toilet real quick.” He slid out of the booth and hurried off.

As Martin raised his mug to take another sip of his crappy beer, he saw something that nearly made him choke. He quickly set the mug back down on the table, and looked out across the pub. There was trivia guy, finally back after a few weeks of other teams having a chance at winning the game. 

Martin felt oddly brave as he shuffled out of the booth, and made his way over to the guy. As he got closer, he could see the way little strands of hair stuck out all over the place from what had probably been a very neat bun at the start of the day, and he was wearing a jumper that seemed way too big on his scrawny frame. Even with the persistent scowl that he always seemed to wear, Martin couldn’t help thinking that he was one of the most beautiful people that he’d ever seen before.

Butterflies fluttered through Martin’s stomach as he came to a stop in front of the man, and suddenly his feet felt like they weighed several tons each. “He- hey.”

The man turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Can I help you with something?”

Martin really hoped that he didn’t throw up on this beautiful stranger, though between the alcohol and the nerves it felt like an ever increasing possibility. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The man’s other eyebrow shot right up at that, and he looked at Martin in surprise. “Really? Why?” His voice was velvety and posh enough to almost sound fake, and it tickled at something in the back of Martin’s mind, though he was apparently already too drunk to figure out why it sounded so familiar. 

Martin blinked a few times. “Well because I- I just- you seem- I mean-”

The man cut him off. “Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “Anyways, I’m not interested in someone like you.”

Obviously Martin knew that the right thing to do was to just back off now that he’d been rejected, but he couldn’t help wondering what the hell ‘someone like you’ meant. “Someone like what? You don’t even know me?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, and he did take a step back so that he wasn’t crowding the stranger.

The man just rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I know more than I could ever want to about you, Martin.” 

He turned away, but Martin reacted quickly as he reached out to grab the man’s arm. “How do you know my name?” 

The man quickly spun back around to look up at Martin in shock. “Are you saying that you just tried to buy me a drink without even knowing who I am?”

Martin frowned. “Should I? Know who you are, I mean?”

The man pulled himself free from Martin’s very loose grip. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered to himself. “Just leave me alone.” Then he stormed off, and Martin watched as he went to sit down at a booth across from a lovely woman who seemed like she might be the actual owner of the jumper. 

Martin trudged back to his seat, mind whirling with questions. He waited just long enough for Tim to return before he said that he was going home. “What? Why?”

Martin shrugged. “I’ve had enough.” As he fumbled his way into the back of a cab, he couldn’t help thinking that Tim had been wrong. Martin hadn’t been cheered up at all. 


	14. A Real Reunion

Martin nearly dropped the two mugs of tea he was holding when a door suddenly slammed shut behind him. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and then headed back out of the kitchen to drop off the tea with Sasha and Tim. He would only make a cup for himself if they were all drinking together, otherwise it wasn’t worth the headache. 

The fact that Tim wasn’t at his desk wasn’t really all that strange, considering how often Tim tried to get out of doing his work. Honestly, it was a miracle that he’d ever been made into a supervisor with the work ethic that he had. But for Sasha to not be at her desk was a little more unusual, and Martin wondered what was going on. 

He set the tea down on their respective desks, and then made his way over to one of Tim’s researchers, an older woman named Annie who apparently always knitted sweaters for whoever she got in the yearly office secret santa party. “Hey, Annie, how’s it going?”

She looked up from whatever she’d been in the middle of typing, and gave him a friendly smile. “I’m just marvelous dear. My partner recently purchased one of those chairs that massages you while you sit in it, and it’s been doing wonders for my back. And how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Martin got out quickly before he remembered why he’d come over here in the first place. “I was just wondering if you knew where Tim and Sasha are? I know I saw them earlier, and it’s a bit late for them to still be at lunch.”

Annie glanced over at the empty desks in question before looking back at Martin. “I believe I heard them saying something about going down to the basement. From what I’ve heard, Robinson finally got herself a new assistant to fill the spot of that lovely young man who used to work here. She had to go outside of the current employee pool to get one, though. ”

Martin remembered the icy gaze Gertrude Robinson had given him when she’d offered him the job, and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for whoever had gotten it instead. He certainly didn’t envy them. “Sounds like you’re not to fond of Ms. Robinson,” he observed before he could stop and think about it.

Luckily, Annie didn’t seem too bothered by the comment, she just shrugged. “She’s a clever old woman, I’ll give her that. But something about her has always bothered me. We’ve both been working here a long time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that lady smile, even once. Oh, sure, sometimes she pretends to smile and play a sweet little old woman, but it’s never real. I just don’t think you can trust someone who is never happy.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “So you wouldn’t trust someone with depression?”

Annie quickly shook her head. “Now that’s not what I said, is it? That’s a very different issue. Whatever’s wrong with Robinson is different than an imbalance of chemicals.” Then she cleared her throat, and her previous cheery disposition returned. “Anyhow, that’s where your friends are, dear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably get back to my work. Lord knows that nobody else will get it done for me.”

Martin nodded and mumbled a soft ‘goodbye’ before walking away from Annie’s desk. She was right that there was something very strange about Gertrude Robinson; that was a big reason he’d been so wary about the job offer to work in the archives. But surely a little visit wouldn’t hurt? If Tim and Sasha were already down there, he’d be safe enough, and it would be rude to not at least introduce himself to the new employee. 

So he took a brief inventory of the work he had left for the day, decided that he could get away with a bit of a distraction, and went to grab Tim and Sasha’s tea so that they would be able to drink it before it got cold, if they were going to be downstairs for a while.

Then he made his way down to the basement. He’d been down a couple of times before, to find certain files or to pick up statements that needed to be properly researched and organized, though he didn’t actually read any of the files himself. That wasn’t his job.

Martin went to the small bullpen, which only had three desks in it, and saw Tim half sitting on one of the desks, while Sasha stood nearby too. Martin had to get much closer to actually see the new person’s face, and when he did, he froze on the spot. It was a miracle that he didn’t end up dropping both mugs, though he was certainly grateful to have saved himself the embarrassment of doing that. 

He wanted to just back away and disappear back upstairs, and live in blissful peace knowing that he’d never have to return to the basement or its occupants again. Unfortunately, Tim turned his head and spotted Martin and then it was too late. “Martin! You’ll never guess who the new archival assistant is. It’s trivia guy!”

Indeed it was, and Martin wished that there was a window he could throw himself out of. He knew that his face had to be bright red as he thought about the one and only encounter he’d had with this man. What were the odds that they’d end up working in the same place? 

“I do have a name,” the new guy grumbled. Instead of the loose, flowey clothing he was always wearing at the pub, he was in a sharp suit with neatly pressed creases, and his hair was pulled back in a tight bun with not a single strand out of place. If it wasn’t for the purple paint on his nails, Martin would almost think that this was actually trivia guy’s secret twin brother or something.

Sasha laughed, and she angled herself part way towards Martin. “We were just doing introductions. While we’re at it, this is Martin Blackwood. He’s on my research team. Martin, this is Jon Sims.” Anything else that was said after that went unheard by Martin, as he just stood there feeling like a complete idiot. Like a complete idiot who’d just been sucker punched in the gut. Now he understood how Jon had known his name back at the pub. Now that he knew, it was easier to see the resemblance between Jon and his younger self, though there was still a bit of a disconnect between them. Probably because the Jon before him looked so stiff and kept a blank expression on his face, instead of proudly telling the world exactly what he thought of it. What had happened to Jon since they’d last seen each other?

Martin ended up excusing himself, though he was barely aware of the words coming out of his own mouth, and then he hurried back upstairs. It was fine. Just because they worked in the same place didn’t mean that they ever had to see each other. As long as Martin made sure to stay away from the archives, everything would be just fine.

,,,

Several days passed without incident, and it occurred to Martin that Jon didn’t want to see him either. Between the way he’d acted towards Martin at the pub, and the fact that he made no effort to reach out and see him now, there was clearly some animosity there. But what right did Jon have to be so upset with Martin? Jon was the one who never returned a single letter. Martin sent a new one each week for months before he finally had to admit to himself that Jon didn’t want to stay in touch. So how dare Jon act so injured now? 

Martin hated confrontation, and especially hated being the one to start a confrontation, but after all this time he and Jon just happened to live in the same city and work in the same building, so clearly it would be a wasted opportunity if Martin didn’t use this chance to vent at Jon. And maybe it wasn’t fair to hold something against Jon from so many years ago, but clearly Jon was still angry about the past, which meant that Martin had the right to be angry too.

So when he was done with work, he lingered down in the front lobby, nodding politely to everyone else who passed by on their way out of the building. By six, everyone should have been gone, but Martin hadn’t seen any sign of Jon. Maybe he hadn’t come in that day?

Just to make sure he’d really covered all of his bases, Martin warily went down to the archives. There were still lights on, and he could hear voices talking. He inched closer, and wondered why he was acting so shady even as he continued to creep around.

“You really don’t have to stay so late just because I am, Jon. I just have a few last minute things to take care of, and then I’ll be on my way. You know, most young people actually prefer to go home early.”

“I’m not that young,” Jon immediately protested. “I’m thirty-four.”

Gertrude let out a loud snort. “Of course. Well, regardless of how old you are, you’re still a lot younger than me. But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of taking care of myself.”

There was a long pause, and then Jon let out a soft sigh. “No, I wasn’t trying to presume that you couldn’t. It’s just that- well, that home isn’t exactly my favorite place right now. What with everything that happened there.”

“I know.”

Jon took in a sharp gasp. “How would you-?”  
He heard a rustle of fabric, as Gertrude must’ve shrugged. “Oh, you mentioned your grandmother during your interview.”

“Right…” The doubt in Jon’s voice wasn’t subtle at all.

Gertrude let out a soft huff. “Honestly, Jon, I’m fine. Go home. Or better yet, go out and do something fun.”

Martin took that as his cue to hurry back to the stairs, but clearly he wasn’t fast enough, because he was stopped by the sound of a throat being cleared. “Resorting to spying, now?”

Martin slowly turned around, and he knew that the sheepish look on his face probably wasn’t doing him any favors. “It’s not what you-”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Jon cut him off. “It’s hardly any of my business what you choose to do with your own time.” 

He started to brush past Martin so that he could go up the stairs, but Martin reached out to grab the back of Jon’s jacket before he could stop himself. “Look, if we’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future, then- then we should at least sort out our issues. Maybe we could go for some tea and we could just talk and-”

Jon shook his head. “I have no interest in going anywhere with you.” His voice was ice cold.

It sounded nothing like the Jon that Martin remembered, and Martin let go of Jon’s coat so that he could ball his hands into fists. “What is your problem?” He bit out. “You’re the one who never wrote back to me!”

Jon whirled around so suddenly that a few strands of hair came loose from his bun, which Martin found that he preferred (even as he acknowledged that now definitely wasn’t the time to be looking at Jon like that). “Excuse me? I don’t know what delusional little world you’ve been living in, but I never received a single letter from you!”

They both just stared at each other for a few seconds, and then their anger seemed to deflate at the same time. “I worked so hard on those letters,” Martin said quietly. “I thought that getting to hear from you would make it at least a little bit easier to start over in a new place. I sent so many, how could you have not gotten any of them?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure you put the right address on them?”

“Of course I’m sure. And I stamped them and put them in the mailbox myself, so it’s not as though my mum could’ve grabbed them, even though she was pretty clear about not wanting me to stay in touch with you.”

Jon frowned. “I wonder-” he started, but then cut himself off, a pensive look taking over his features. “My grandmother didn’t want us to stay in touch either. I never thought she would have gone so far, but I wonder if it’s possible that she- that she took your letters before I could read them.”

Martin shrugged. “I never really got to know your grandmother that well. But you could ask her about it? Surely she wouldn’t lie right to your face?”

From the look Jon gave him, apparently Jon wasn’t so sure about that. “I can’t ask her,” he finally said. “She passed away a few months ago.”

Martin automatically reached out to touch Jon’s arm, but then dropped his hand when he realized that his touch probably wasn’t welcome the way it used to be. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Jon let out a long sigh and shrugged at the same time. “I’m not. It took me a long time to realize it, but she really was just a miserable old hag who took her frustrations out on me for no reason. I just wish she could’ve died anywhere other than my flat.” Jon’s shoulders slumped down, and he dropped his head so that his chin was nearly touching his chest. “If you really did write to me, then I’m sorry for how I’ve acted towards you. It’s just that all this time, I thought that you had lied back then, and-”

“I get it,” Martin interrupted in a gentle voice. “I thought that you must’ve decided you didn’t need me anymore. That all your other friends were enough for you.”

Jon snorted. “They were too much, if you ask me. No, I know that they all cared, and I’m even still in touch with a few of them, but they were never you, Martin. You were irreplaceable to me since that first day when you kidnapped me.”

Martin felt his face start to turn red. “Oh- really?” His voice came out higher pitched than usual, and he had to clear his throat. “And for the last time, I didn’t kidnap you.”

“You definitely did,” Jon insisted. Then he finally looked up at Martin again, though his eyes remained partially hidden because of the slight glare against his glasses. “Do you… I mean you asked before if I- Do you still want to get that drink?”

Martin thought about how much he’d cared about Jon when they’d just been naive children who thought that they could make up their own rules for the world. He thought about how he’d seen Jon in the pub, and even thinking Jon was a complete stranger, he’d still thought he was the most beautiful person Martin had ever seen. He thought about the fact that they’d both taken their ‘wedding vows’ so seriously, even if it had been a pretend ceremony conducted by children. And he thought about the hopeful, yet nervous, way that Jon was peering up at him now. With all of that in mind, Martin was truly helpless to give any other answer than, “Yeah, I’d really like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be more angsty, but I figured that the start of season 5 gave us enough angst, so this happened instead lol


	15. Not A Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update!

Of course Martin knew that he must have changed since he was a child. Everyone changed as they got older, and he was no exception. And yet, something about him must have stayed similar enough for Jon to have been able to recognize him immediately back when they’d first accidentally brushed hands in the pub. Maybe Jon just had a special knack for recognizing people even after ages had passed. But regardless of whatever he thought he knew about people and their ability to change, nothing prepared Martin for just how different Jon was now. 

Maybe he was just trying too hard to hold onto the past, but Martin found himself going out of his way to go down to the basement to bring Jon a cup of tea. As he descended, he felt a knot in his stomach grow tighter and tighter, though he couldn’t really say whether that was from nervousness at seeing Jon again, or at being physically down in the archives.

He made his way over to Jon’s desk, but paused for a moment just to take in the sight. It seemed that Jon always wore pants to work, but it wasn’t any of Martin’s business to ask why. Martin wanted to smile at the sight of the way that Jon’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

But Martin could only get away with being away from his desk for so long, so after a few more seconds, he cleared his throat to get Jon’s attention, and when Jon looked up, Martin held out the mug. “Tea?”

Jon blinked a few times, looking vaguely confused at first. Then he offered Martin a small nod and reached out to accept the mug, though he put it down on his desk without even taking a sip. “Thanks,” he basically grunted before focusing back on his work. 

Martin took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out, and tried not to let his voice shake too much from nerves. “Jon, I- I thought that it was nice talking to you the other night, and maybe- maybe we could do it again sometime?”

That seemed to catch Jon’s attention a lot more than the tea had. He looked up at Martin, one eyebrow raised. “You want to spend more time with me? But we barely even know each other anymore, and most people don’t exactly want to see more of me after getting a couple of hours.”

Martin shrugged. “Well I’m not most people. And I think- I think that you’re a fascinating person.” His face felt like it was on fire from how red it had to be, but hopefully with the bad lighting in the archives, Jon wouldn’t notice. Or if he did, he’d be kind enough not to say anything about it. “I want to get to know you. Again.” 

He braced himself for the inevitable rejection, but to his surprise (and joy), Jon just let out a soft chuckle, and then leaned back in his seat. “Alright. I can’t deny that I had a- had a nice time with you the other night. So what do you want to do? Drinks after work? Now that Gertrude is refusing to let me stay late enough to actually get everything done, it seems as though I’ve suddenly got a great deal of free time every day and-”

Martin cut Jon off before the other man could truly start rambling. Not that Martin didn’t find it endearing, but he at least wanted to make some solid plans first. “Actually, I was thinking that maybe- I mean only if you want- if it wouldn’t make you feel too uncomfortable- that maybe you could come over to my place and I could cook?” He held his breath as he waited for Jon’s response.

Jon startled Martin by giving him a genuine smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “Oh, do you think you can still impress me with your ability to put frozen dinners in a microwave? I’ll admit I was probably a very easily impressed child.”

Martin’s face heated up even more. “Well, I never said that I’m great at cooking,” he mumbled.

He thought that that would probably be enough to get Jon to turn him down, but Jon just nodded, and then spoke rather decisively. “I’ll come over, but I’ll bring some stuff, and I’ll help you cook. I had to learn to fend for myself in uni and I have it on good authority that I’m pretty good at it.”

Immediately, Martin went through a mental inventory of everything he’d have to clean up and put away and buy if he was actually going to let Jon into his kitchen. But it’s not as though he was going to turn down the offer, since it meant getting a chance to spend more time with Jon (and also, truthfully, Martin’s expertise with cooking ended at the basics- grilled cheese, canned soup, frozen burgers, and anything else that was both cheap and easy. It would be nice to have something a bit better than that, if Jon actually turned out to be good at cooking). “Great! I’ll just uh- I’ll text you my address, and-”

“We never exchanged numbers,” Jon pointed out, looking somewhat amused.

Martin blinked once. “Right, I’ll just-” He patted down his pockets, but apparently had left his phone in his jacket, which was draped over the back of his desk chair. “Uh…”

Jon looked around, and then found his phone under a stack of folders. He held it up to Martin. “Put your number in and then text yourself.”

“You didn’t unlock it.”

Jon shrugged. “I never bothered with a passcode. It’s not as though there’s anything particularly important stored on there, and if someone ever stole my phone, it would probably be someone who knows how to break into a locked phone anyways.”

Hm. Maybe Martin would be able to convince Jon to at least use some level of security on his belongings, but it probably wouldn’t go over well at the moment. So he just turned on the phone and swiped past the generic lockscreen wallpaper, and then paused at the picture that took up the home screen. It was of Jon pressed up tightly between two women, one of whom Martin thought he vaguely remembered seeing at the pub with Jon. The woman on the left was making a funny face, while Jon looked vaguely irritated to have his picture taken, but the woman on the right was looking at Jon with so much fondness, and she was wearing the same jumper that Jon had been wearing one night at the pub.

Martin knew that he had no right to be upset or jealous. Up until very recently, he hadn’t even seen Jon in over a decade. And yet he couldn’t help feeling that weird swooping in his belly and his chest growing tight. Martin had had a couple of boyfriends before, but he wasn’t with anyone at the moment, and for some reason he’d let himself assume that Jon was just as available. Which didn’t even make sense, since Martin hadn’t asked Jon anything about his personal life, and it’s not as though there was any reason to think that Jon still cared about some fake marriage ceremony from their childhood, but still…

Martin took a deep breath, and refrained from asking about the women in the photo. If Jon had wanted to talk about them, then he would have brought it up himself, right? Instead Martin just put his number in and sent himself a text as instructed, all the while trying to ignore what felt like a heavy weight growing inside of him. Why had he even let himself get his hopes up at all?

,,,

By the time eight o’clock rolled around on Saturday night, Martin had already rearranged everything in his flat about a million times. He had no idea what Jon’s current circumstances were, but no matter what, Martin didn’t want to come across as some slob who couldn’t even take care of a tiny little flat. 

Even though Martin was obviously expecting company, he still found himself jumping a little bit when there was a knock on his front door. He took one last look around to make sure that there was nothing too embarrassing lying around, and then ducked into the bathroom to peer into the mirror above the sink. He was still wearing his work clothes, but he’d managed to smooth his hair down with some water, and he had brushed his teeth (twice!). 

Satisfied that everything was about as good as he could hope for, Martin hurried to answer the door before Jon gave up and just went home. He pulled it open with more force than necessary, and winced as the door bounced off the wall rather loudly. 

Jon was still wearing his work clothes as well, and Martin didn’t know how to feel about that. Did Jon not feel comfortable enough to change into something else to visit Martin, or did he feel fine with his work clothes, or did he just not have enough time to change, or-

Jon cleared his throat to get Martin’s attention, and Martin realized that Jon was holding out a wine bottle. “Here.” He practically shoved the bottle into Martin’s hands. “Georgie said I should bring it.”

Martin blinked once. “Ah- Georgie?”   


“We live together,” Jon said casually, as if his words hadn’t just sent Martin’s heart plummeting down to his feet. “So where’s your kitchen?”   


Feeling somewhat numb, Martin led Jon to the kitchen, and watched as Jon set down the brown paper grocery bag he’d brought and started pulling out all kinds of things. Martin berated himself for getting his hopes up. Jon had never said anything about this being a date. He’d just agreed that they could hang out and get acquainted with each other. Martin was the only one who’d made assumptions about it from there.

Well, if Martin wanted to at least maintain a friendship with Jon, he should probably say something before the awkward silence stretched out for the rest of the night (though Martin was pretty sure that he was the only one who felt the awkwardness of it). “So what are you making?”

Jon glanced over his shoulder and gave Martin a small smile. “I thought I’d stick to something familiar and fairly easy. Though I forgot to ask- do you have any food allergies?”   


Martin shook his head. “Nope. And I’m not picky, either. I’ll eat anything.” Oh, why did he say that? He just sounded like an idiot. 

His only saving grace was that Jon was somehow even more awkward in social situations than Martin, and therefore didn’t seem to realize whenever Martin messed up or said weird things. “Great. So there’s nothing too complicated about this. Would you mind grating the cheese while I get started with the steaks?”

Martin didn’t even own a cheesegrater, but luckily Jon seemed to have thought of everything, and brought one of his own. He handed Martin the grater and the block of parmesan, and they both got started. “So you learned to cook in school?” Martin asked, for lack of anything better to talk about. Maybe all of this had been a mistake, and he never should have invited Jon over, but now it was too late to back down, so he had to at least try to make the best of it.

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “It wasn’t in any kind of formal classes or anything, but yeah. There was this semi-fancy place near campus that was a bit too pricey for my budget, but my friend worked in the kitchen there, and would sneak me and our other friends in on less busy days to eat leftovers and stuff in the kitchen, and when she realized I was interested, she ended up teaching me everything she knew about cooking.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Martin said wistfully. He’d never been to university. Generally he didn’t think he’d really missed out on anything important, but sometimes he couldn’t help thinking that he would have liked to be part of a community, or a friend group, like that. “So where did you go after you graduated? And how did you end up at the Magnus Institute?”

Jon paused in what he was doing, though the delicious aroma of steak, butter, and garlic had already started to spread throughout the small room. “While I was still in school, I worked in a little bookshop that mainly dealt with antiques and first editions, and I really enjoyed my time there. I ended up being the manager of the place, and the owner offered to let me stick around once I graduated. I was there for a few years, and I know the owner was training me to eventually take over the store, but there was- uh, well, it just wasn’t a good fit.”

Martin tilted his head. “Why not? Sounds like the perfect job for you.”

Jon opened his mouth like he was about to explain more, but then he just shook his head. “It just didn’t work out. Anyways Georgie was already in London by then and needed another roommate so I packed up, moved here, and looked for the first job opening that I seemed qualified for.” As he pulled the steaks off the pan to set them down on a cutting board, he glanced at Martin. “How about you? How did you end up here?”

For a moment Martin considered explaining the whole ‘fraud’ situation, but then he changed his mind. Not because he didn’t trust Jon to keep the truth to himself, but because he didn’t want Jon to realize how little Martin had actually done with his life so far. “I needed a higher paying job to afford my mum’s care, and I ended up here. I know that sounds pretty boring, but that’s all there is to it.”

Fortunately, Jon didn’t try to push for more information. He finished cooking in silence, and a few minutes later, he and Martin were sitting down at the table in the living room with the corners that folded up into place when he needed room for more than just himself. 

Martin was glad he’d had the foresight to dig out the nice plates that had once been his mother’s, rather than serving Jon’s cooking on paper. They sat at the table, and Martin took a bite of his food, ready to start complimenting it no matter what it tasted like. But there was no need to lie, because the dish was actually quite good. “You have to teach me how to do this,” Martin blurted without thinking. 

Jon just nodded, though. “Sure. Maybe next time you can come over to my place and you and Georgie can both learn. She keeps insisting that she doesn’t need to know how to cook as long as she has takeout numbers and me around to keep her fed.”

And just like that, Martin was reminded of the fact that Jon was taken, and that that being ‘married’ as kids did not translate to getting together as adults. Besides, the woman who’d been looking at Jon so lovingly on his home screen was a very attractive lady, and Martin was just… himself. It’s not as though he had any chance of competing.

As the evening went on, and Jon helped himself to a glass or two of the wine he’d brought, (while Martin stuck to beer because he thought wine was always gross), Martin found that both he and Jon loosened up a bit. After they were finished eating, they ended up migrating to the couch, and reminiscing about their childhood.

Jon sighed as he tipped his head back against the top of the couch, and Martin had to resist the urge to scoot any closer. “I still have that jumper, you know. The one that was my father’s? I don’t think you ever told me how you managed to get it back from that guy. What was his name again? Bully… Billy! Yeah, Billy the bully! Hm, whatever happened to him, anyways?”

Jon suddenly went really quiet, and Martin looked at him with concern. Before he could ask if everything was alright, though, Jon hopped up to his feet. “It’s late, and I should probably get going. I had a- a really lovely time tonight. Thank you for inviting me.” Then he hurried away before Martin could really say anything at all. 

Martin just sighed as he got up and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes that they’d left in the sink, but he came to an abrupt halt when he saw that they were all washed and dried and stacked neatly on the counter. Come on, why couldn’t Jon at least be inconsiderate enough that Martin could stop liking him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.delallo.com/recipes/parmesan-polenta-topped-lemon-sage-steaks/#   
> this is the recipe Jon made


	16. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update to make up for last week being late, there will (hopefully) still be an update like usual on Monday

Martin found that it was surprisingly easy to get into a new daily routine. It was just a small addition to what he already did, so he tried to tell himself that there was no special meaning to it. The difference was that now when he got up to make afternoon tea for Tim and Sasha, he’d make an extra cup for Jon and then bring it down to the archives for him. Most of the time Jon didn’t even seem aware of Martin’s presence, but it was worth the trip down there for the few times that Jon actually did look up and the two of them could share a brief conversation. 

Routines were good, and Martin appreciated being able to stick to his, which is why he felt thrown off when he got down to the archives but Jon wasn’t at his desk. He looked around in confusion, and waited for a minute to see if maybe Jon had just gotten up to use the restroom. When Jon didn’t return, though, Martin set the tea down in the small space Jon had cleared for just such a thing (after the one time Martin had made the mistake of shuffling Jon’s papers around to make room).

Even though he knew that Jon probably wouldn’t even give it much thought, Martin couldn’t help feeling like it would be a bit weird to just leave the tea there and go. So after some hesitation, he walked over to one of the other desks in the archives bullpen. 

There was a woman typing away on her computer, and Martin vaguely recognized her from back when he’d come down on occasion to visit Michael. She wasn’t usually here around the time Martin came down with Jon’s tea, though, so he hadn’t seen her in a while. He cleared his throat, and when she looked up at him with obvious annoyance on her face, Martin immediately felt awkward. “Er, hello. Abby, right?” She just stared at him blankly and gave no response, so he hurried on. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d- if you’ve seen Jon today?”

She narrowed her eyes and gave Martin a long, scrutinizing look, and then she finally leaned back in her seat. “Yeah.”

Martin waited, but when no other words were forthcoming, he internally winced before pushing forward. “Could you- could you tell me where he might be right now?”

Abby let out a long sigh, like Martin was intentionally trying to ruin her day, but she did answer. “He should be out following up on some statements right now. And before you ask- no, I don’t know when he’ll be back. But it probably won’t be until the end of the day. So please do everyone a favor and take back the tea, because if you don’t, I’m pretty sure that it will just sit around and get moldy.” Then she turned to face her computer again, clearly marking the end of that conversation.

Martin stared at her for a few seconds just in case she was suddenly about to change her mind and become very chatty, but nothing changed. It was strange, because even though Martin had never really gotten to know Abby before, from what little he’d seen of her, she’d always come across as a bright and friendly person. Though it was possible she was just having a bad day. Everyone was liable to have those every now and then. 

Since there was no point in waiting around for Jon without knowing when the man would return to the Institute, Martin just grabbed the tea and went back upstairs. Sasha spotted him on the way to the break room. “Oh there you are! What’s wrong? I thought you said that you finally managed to make Jon’s perfect cup of tea?”

Martin glanced down at the still-full cup in his hand, and then shrugged. “He wasn’t there. Apparently he’s out doing his job, as shocking as that may seem to the many hooligans that work here while never doing anything.”

“It’s okay, you can just say Tim,” Sasha assured him, the corner of her lip twitching up in amusement.

Even though Tim’s desk was on the other side of the floor, saying his name usually managed to summon him over by some mystical way that Martin had learned not to question. “You guys gossiping about me? Is it because of that police officer I was talking to the other day? Because I can assure you that all we did was talk. All night long.”

Sasha raised one eyebrow. “He had a lot to say, did he?”   


Tim shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a great conversationalist.” 

While he listened to them banter back and forth, Martin took a sip of tea without even thinking about it. He had managed to forget that he had the tea that was meant for Jon, not himself, which meant that it was more sugar and cream than actual tea. He managed not to spit it out, though he definitely wondered how Jon could manage to drink this stuff everyday. 

Tim must’ve seen the face Martin pulled, because he laughed. “Yeah, I would advise you to never drink anything that was intended for Jon. Especially not his tea. Seriously, I’m pretty sure that there’s more cream in his tea than there is actual tea.”

Sasha frowned. “Come one, you’re exaggerating. That can’t be true; at that point why would he even bother to add the tea?”  
“To water down the cream?” Tim said in a tone that suggested that that was the obvious answer. 

As much as Martin would have enjoyed just standing around and listening to Sasha and Tim go back and forth with each other, he really did have work that he needed to get done. He continued to the break room to dump out Jon’s abomination, and then headed back to his desk. 

When he got there, he saw that there were a few missed notifications on his phone, and Martin was too curious to wait to look at them. He didn’t bother putting much effort into any social media, and the few people that he did talk with regularly all worked with him, and therefore had no reason to be texting him in the middle of the day.

To his surprise, the notifications were all from Jon, and Martin eagerly opened the unread messages. It had to be something pretty important, since Jon didn’t come across as the type of person to bother with frivolous texting. 

But the messages weren’t at all like anything Martin would have expected. The first one read ‘ _Witness wouldn’t talk to me because I “look like a half-drowned rat”_ , and then it was followed by a picture of Jon’s face, showing his hair practically plastered to him, and what Martin could see of Jon’s shirt collar was clearly much darker than any of Jon’s shirts normally were. ‘ _Stupid car wasn’t looking where it was going and went right through a big puddle that I was standing next to’_ and then, perhaps the most shocking part of all, a string of emojis. There were several of the orange angry face, and then a few of the crying one, and then the upside down smiley face.

Martin just stared at his phone screen for longer than necessary, and then he couldn’t help letting out a small smile. He found a funny gif of an angry little black cat getting drenched by a passing car, and sent that to Jon. ‘ _ You probably looked more like a cat than a rat _ ’

When a few minutes went by with no response, Martin started to worry that that had been crossing the line, and he regretted sending it, and he wondered if anything in artifact storage would let him go back in time to stop himself from sending such a stupid text and- Martin’s phone made a small noise to alert him of a notification, and he opened it with great trepidation. Jon had sent back ‘ _ traitor _ ’ and the emoji of a face sticking out its tongue. Martin just stared at it for a moment, and then he slumped back in his seat, and knew he had to have a ridiculous grin on his face. 


	17. Georgie Takes Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is wrong with me. i was supposed to drag out the yearning for a while. why is it so impossible for me to do that with these two?

“Georgie said that I need to invite you over to our place because last time we hung out she gave me a d.”

Martin blinked a few times, and then furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?”

Jon tilted his head. “Like a grade. She thinks I did bad,” he said with the air of someone providing much needed elaboration, despite leaving Martin just as confused as he had been a moment ago. When Martin didn’t say anything else, because he honestly didn’t know what he was even supposed to say, Jon sighed. “Look, do you want to come over or not?”

At least that much was something Martin could understand. Though it wasn’t a particularly easy question to answer. On the one hand, it would mean getting to spend more time with Jon outside of work. But on the other hand, it would mean having to meet Jon’s significant other and be cordial with her. But when Jon’s shoulders slumped down and he looked disappointed, Martin hurried to say, “Yeah, sure, when?”

Jon just stared at him, like he had to make sure that Martin had actually been the one to speak, and then he smiled, and Martin knew that he’d made the right choice. Despite anything else, he was still Jon’s friend, which meant that he could be mature enough to enjoy time with Jon even if it would never be just the two of them, not really. “Great. I’ll text you my address and you can come over around eight.” Then he walked off without even waiting to make sure that Martin would be alright with that. Though to be fair, Martin very rarely had other plans other than the long-standing Friday nights at the pub with Sasha and Tim.

Martin found it difficult to concentrate on his work for the rest of the day, and he found himself simultaneously feeling dread and excitement for the evening. He hurried home to change into something slightly nicer (he didn’t want this Georgie to think that he was some kind of slob), and then he followed his gps to the address that Jon had sent him.

He found himself standing outside a nice looking building, and suddenly felt even more embarrassed about the state that his own place had been in when Jon had come over. But there was nothing he could do about that now, so instead he just took a deep breath and then headed inside. He took the lift, not wanting to show up sweaty and gross from scaling two flights of stairs, and then walked down the hallway until he found the right door.

Then Martin paused again, double checked that he hadn’t crushed any of the flowers in the little bouquet he’d picked up on his way, and then knocked softly on the door. He half-hoped that nobody would answer, so he’d have an excuse to just leave and pretend Jon had never invited him over to socialize with his girlfriend, of all people.

But despite his best efforts, the door swung open a few seconds later, revealing one of the women from the picture on Jon’s home screen. He smiled at her, and found that she was about the same height as him, which meant she was quite tall for a woman. Martin cleared his throat once. “Er, Georgie, I presume?”

She gave him a friendly smile as she nodded. “Yup, that’s me. And you must be Martin?” As soon as he nodded, Martin found himself getting dragged into the flat. He had planned on giving the flowers to Jon, but he suddenly realized just how terribly inappropriate that would be, so he shoved them towards Georgie instead. She took them, looking only slightly bemused. “These are for me?”

Martin nodded, and then found that he had to gulp several times before he could speak, because of how dry his throat was. “Yeah. I would have brought wine, but I’m not really much of a wine drinker, so I wouldn’t even know what one to get.”

Georgie grinned. “Well these are lovely, so thank you. Though based on everything Jon’s told me, I would’ve thought he’d be the one who you’d bring flowers.”

Martin’s eyes went wide with panic. He had been going off of the assumption that Jon was too oblivious to notice Martin’s feelings anyways, but what if he’d been wrong? “Whatever you’re thinking, I swear I’m not here to-”

Jon suddenly entered the room, a long skirt flowing around his legs. Martin found himself at a loss for words when he saw that the skirt stopped at mid-calf, and Jon wasn’t wearing any socks or shoes. “Oh good, you’re here.”

“And he brought me flowers,” Georgie announced in a way that felt like it was supposed to be teasing, though Martin had no idea why Georgie would need to tease Jon about getting flowers. Maybe it was some kind of inside joke, and oh god, this was going to be an awkward night and Martin wished that he’d just turned down the invitation.

He watched as Jon’s face went through an interesting journey of multiple different emotions that passed by too quickly to identify, and then landed on his usual work face- aka, part irritated, part distracted, and part ‘I-know-what-I’m-doing-better-than-you-do’. “I see. Well, the food will be ready in a few minutes, so maybe you could help Georgie set the table?”

There were very few things in the world that Martin would rather do less, but he followed Georgie into a small dining room that had nothing but a big wooden cabinet up against one wall, and a round table with four chairs at it. “I had set the table earlier, but apparently we’re not supposed to be using the normal plates tonight,” Georgie told him in a low voice.

Martin blinked a few times. “Oh… okay?” 

Georgie stared at him, and then she shook her head lightly before opening one of the cabinet doors and pulling out some fancy looking plates. “Jon got these for like four quid at a second-hand shop, but when we looked them up on ebay, turns out they’re worth quite the pretty penny, and we henceforth decided that these would be the fancy plates. We rarely ever pull out the fancy plates.”

When she gave him a pointed look, Martin realized that he was supposed to say something in response to that, though he wasn’t really sure what. “Oh, uh, I’m honored, then.”

For some reason that made Georgie laugh as she pulled out three plates and handed them to Martin, and he carefully set them down on the table as Georgie pulled out some fancy looking wine glasses as well. “Jon mentioned that you’re not a fan of wine, so we picked up some sparkling grape juice, and in my opinion, that stuff always tastes better when you drink it out of a wine glass.”

It sent warmth through Martin’s chest to think that Jon had noticed and bothered to remember such a small detail about Martin. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

By the time they’d finished folding the cloth napkins in half and set out silverware in front of each place setting, Jon emerged from the kitchen with a tray, and he carefully used a spatula to set a piece of fish down on each plate, then he returned to the kitchen and came back out with a bowl, and scooped some greens over each portion of fish. “This is coconut tilapia with pomegranate salsa.”

“It smells great, but you really didn’t need to go through so much effort-”

“It was no trouble,” Jon interrupted. “It’s actually a super easy recipe.” He went back to the kitchen one last time, and then returned with an unopened bottle of sparkling grape juice. He struggled to peel off the plastic wrapped around the top of the bottle. Martin opened his mouth to offer to help, but Jon just grabbed the knife from next to his plate and sliced through the plastic, letting out a triumphant noise as he did so. When he realized that both Georgie and Martin were just staring at him, his face got darker, and he dropped down into his seat. Georgie let out a snicker that she didn’t even bother to muffle, while Martin was kind enough to not say anything.

They were about halfway through their meal when Georgie looked up at Martin and cleared her throat once. “So, Jon tells me that you two are married.”

The blush on Jon’s face that had faded as they ate returned full force. “I never- that was when we were kids!” he hissed at her like Martin wouldn’t somehow hear that. “It was not legally binding!”

Georgie arched one eyebrow. “But you never got divorced, right? Which means that by the power that witnessed the ceremony, you’re still technically married?” She leaned over to nudge Jon in the side. “So why did you never tell me about Martin until you two started working together?”  
Jon sighed, clearly resigned to the fact that Georgie wasn’t going to let him get out of this conversation in one piece. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. I suspect that it was my grandmother’s doing, though of course I can’t ask her about it now.” Both he and Georgie glanced over towards the living room and shuddered at the same time. 

“Jon, I know I’ve never said this before, but please know that I mean it in the meanest way possible when I say that you’re grandmother was a shitty old woman whose only joy in life came from making you as miserable as she possibly could. I mean, I only know what I’ve witnessed since we met, but clearly she’s been a problem since you were a kid.”

Jon just sighed, and pushed his food around on his plate instead of answering. Martin already regretted coming here tonight as it was, but he definitely didn’t want things to get even worse. He quickly tried to think of something to say that would change the mood. The polite thing to do would probably be to ask about how Jon and Georgie had met, but Martin didn’t think he’d be able to handle hearing some adorable meet-cute. “Did Jon tell you how we first met?” he asked instead, though he immediately felt bad about making this all about him. 

Georgie’s gaze narrowed in on him with scary speed. “No, but from what little he has told me, I’m assuming that it was no normal meeting.”

Martin laughed as he thought back to all those years ago. “We were only a few years old at the time, maybe four or five, I think. Jon had just moved to town, and I guess he was trying to explore the place. We literally bumped into each other, and then-”

“-Then he asked my thoughts on gay marriage, abducted me, and forcibly decided that we were going to be friends,” Jon grumbled.

“Again with the kidnapping thing,” Martin couldn’t help laughing. “I would hardly call it an abduction.”

Jon grumbled under his breath, but Georgie ignored that in lieu of looking at Martin with interest. “So have you always known that you’re gay?”

That’s when Jon leaned over to punch Georgie in the arm. “You can’t just ask someone something like that! God, what is wrong with you? What if he’s not even…?”

Georgie rolled her eyes at Jon, but then she did give Martin an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I can be a little too nosey for my own good. You don’t have to feel pressured to talk about anything like that, but this is a safe place if you do want to. Me and Jon are both super queer, in fact I’m sure that Jon’s opinions on gay marriage are probably very similar to yours, so-”

Jon’s head thumped off the edge of the table as he dropped it dramatically. “You are the worst friend in the entire universe.”

As Georgie chuckled, Martin couldn’t help but frown. “Wait- friend?”

Georgie turned her attention back to him. “Well, friend, roommate, it’s all the same in the end. Why do you sound so surprised?”

Jon didn’t lift his head up all the way, but he did shift enough so that he could peer up at Martin from over the rim of his glasses. Martin gulped as he looked back at both of them. “It’s just that I- I mean I thought- with you two living together, and acting so close, and- well I thought that you two- that you’re together.”

There was a moment of absolute silence, and then Georgie started laughing so hard so that it was making her eyes tear up, and even Jon cracked a small smile. Martin just stared at them both as he waited to be let in on the joke. Since it seemed like Georgie was going to need some time to calm down, Jon took it upon himself to explain, and he sat up straight in his chair again. “We’re not together. Not like that. I mean, we did go out for a little while in uni, but that was ages ago.”

“If by ‘a little while’ you mean two years,” Georgie practically wheezed out. After a few more seconds and several deep breaths, she was able to talk normally again. “We didn’t really work out as a couple, but we stayed good friends. So when Jon needed a fresh start and I needed a new roommate, it just worked out perfectly.”

Martin felt like an idiot for not just asking about it, because that would have saved him weeks of thinking that, well- but it didn’t matter anymore. Not that it really made much of a difference. Just because Martin liked Jon didn’t mean that Jon liked him back in the romantic sense. 

Martin and Jon both flinched back slightly when Georgie abruptly stood up and slammed her hands down on the table. “You are both ridiculous! You are grown-ass adults, and you should be able to talk to each other. Now I’m going to go and record the next episode of my podcast- you should definitely give it a listen when you get the chance, Martin- and you two are going to actually communicate with each other before I lock you in the closet together!” She shoved her chair back and started to leave the room, but then she stopped to glance over her shoulder. “Oh, and Jon- it’s totally your turn to do the dishes, as thanks for me having to put up with all of this,” she waved her hand around like that was supposed to mean something, and then continued on her way. A few moments later, Martin heard the sound of a door slamming shut.

There was awkward silence for a few seconds, and then Jon coughed once. “Er, sorry about her. She can be a bit, uh, much, sometimes. She means well, but she has some strange ideas about certain, uh, things.”

They just stared at each other, and then Martin built up the courage to ask, “Jon, do you, uh, I mean, would you ever consider, maybe, if you’re not with Georgie, that maybe you’d be interested in giving me a- a chance?”

The longer that passed without a response, the sweatier Martin’s palms got, until Jon finally let out a sigh and slumped down in his seat. “I thought I already- I mean, it’s not as though I invite anyone else to come over.”

It took far longer than it should have for the meaning of those words to sink in, but once they did, Martin couldn’t help giving Jon a wide grin. “Really?”

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Only if you- if you want. And it would be more of a trial than anything. We’re both very different people than we were when we were kids.”

It took some supreme effort for Martin to refrain from blurting out anything that would scare Jon off already. “I should have told you sooner, but you look very- you look nice.”

That wasn’t what Martin had planned on saying, and it looked like that wasn’t what Jon had expected to hear, but Martin did sincerely mean those words, so he didn’t take them back. Jon glanced down at his outfit (Martin wouldn’t be surprised if Jon had forgotten what he was wearing), and then looked back up at Martin. “Thanks. You look good too. Want to help me with the dishes?”

Maybe that wasn’t the declaration of romantic intent that would have come from anyone else, but for Martin, it was enough. “I’d love to.” 

They gathered the dishes and went to the kitchen, where Jon washed while Martin dried. Martin was taken by surprise when Jon suddenly flicked some water at him, but it was worth having a damp shoulder when it came with the chance to hear genuine laughter from Jon. 

Overall, as Martin headed home a few hours after he’d arrived at Jon’s place, he decided that there wasn’t a single thing he would change about the night. It had been the best first? second? date that Martin had ever been on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.howsweeteats.com/2013/01/toasted-coconut-tilapia-with-pomegranate-salsa/  
> this is the recipe Jon made


	18. Stood Up

“Are you sure this is okay?” Martin asked nervously as he held up the little glass bottle that he’d picked out.

Jon rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Martin. I’m color blind, so I really don’t think that you could possibly make any worse choices than I could make on my own. I trust that you’ll do just fine.” 

With that, he settled his hand down flat on the paper towel he’d put on the table, and waited patiently for Martin to open the bottle of nail polish. Martin just gulped, and really hoped that he’d be able to keep his hands steady enough that he wouldn’t make a complete mess of Jon’s nails.

At least Jon seemed to be an expert at keeping his own hands perfectly still, which did make it easier on Martin. He tried not to feel too self-conscious about the way he ended up slightly poking his tongue out as he concentrated on making sure that the color came out as neatly as possible. He was just glad that Jon hadn’t asked for anything as complicated as designs, because then Martin would have definitely had to let him down.

There was silence between the two men as Martin did as he’d been asked, though there was nothing particularly awkward about it. Not like the silences that had been between them when they’d first been reunited. It was hard to believe that that had already been several months ago at this point. 

When Martin was finally done, with two coats painted on each nail as evenly as Martin had been able to manage it, he was rewarded with a grateful smile from Jon. “This looks good, Martin.”

“Guess it’s a bit like riding a bicycle,” he suggested, even though he had no idea if it was anything like that, since he’d never learned how to ride a bike. “I used to do my mum’s makeup all the time, including her nails.” He tilted his head and gave Jon a thoughtful look. “I’m pretty sure I did your makeup at least a couple of times too, right?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, and then leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I think you must have, because I do remember wearing makeup at some point, but there’s no way that my grandmother would have ever allowed such a thing in her house, and I don’t think I would’ve- well, nevermind. Thanks again for coming over.”

That sounded like a pretty clear dismissal to Martin, but he couldn’t help dragging his feet (metaphorically, of course). “So what’s the emergency, anyways?”

“Hm?”

Martin avoided making eye contact as he wiped around the lip of the polish bottle with more force than necessary. “You said that I needed to come over and help you because of some kind of emergency, but you never elaborated on that.” Of course Martin would have come over to help even if it wasn’t an emergency, but he couldn’t help feeling as though emergencies were something that he and Jon should talk about with each other. Weren’t they- well- together?

Jon sighed as he stood up, careful not to touch his wet nails against anything as he did so. When Martin dared to peer up at him, he saw the way that Jon was also blatantly avoiding meeting Martin’s eyes. “I just didn’t want to worry you,” he said, as if that somehow answered the question at all.

Martin remained seated, because he knew that standing up and towering over Jon probably wasn’t the best way to inspire trust in the other man. “Should I be worried?” He kept his voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to make any judgements when he still had no idea what was actually going on.

Jon let out a longer sigh, and then shrugged one shoulder. “Do you know a man named Michael Shelley?”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly feeling even more lost than he had been a few seconds ago. “The one who had your job before you had it? We were friends, of a sort. What does he have to do with anything?”

Jon reached up to nudge his glasses further up his nose with the palm of his hand, still being careful not to do anything to smudge his nails. “He reached out to me. Said that there’s important things I need to know about the archives. So we’re having a work-related dinner and I didn’t want to show up looking like a mess.”

Perhaps that should have been reassuring. Michael had been a good friend (up until he went and quit without bothering to even say goodbye to anyone else in the Institute), and he was definitely completely straight, not to mention the fact that Martin completely trusted Jon, so there was no reason for Martin to get jealous. But for some reason, he found himself feeling even more on edge.

Maybe it was because of the way that Michael had just left without a word. Or maybe it was that when he finally reached out, it wasn’t to Tim or Martin or Sasha, but to Jon, someone that he’d never even met before. The whole situation just felt shady, grating on all of Martin’s instincts. “So why would I be worried?” he forced himself to ask as calmly as he could.

There was no immediate answer, as Jon instead waved his hands through the air a few times in a fruitless attempt to get the polish to dry faster. But when the silence stretched on, Jon’s shoulders slumped down, and he spoke in a deliberately slow way that only made Martin feel more tense. “He specifically said that I shouldn’t tell you about our meeting. That it would be detrimental to all of us, or some such- nonsense. I think he might be trying to protect you, that maybe he’s sick or something. His voice sounded so strange, at least from what I could hear over all the static that was on the line. I just need to make sure that he’s alright. I owe him that much.”

“Because you took his job?”   


Jon blinked once in confusion, and then shook his head. “What? No. I would never claim to have known him nearly so well as you, but we did meet once before, when I was a kid, and he was just an unpaid intern at the Institute still.” He must have been able to see the growing confusion on Martin’s face (probably because Martin didn’t even bother trying to hide it). “Look, I’ll tell you about it later, but for right now, I just need to focus on getting ready so that I won’t be late to meeting up with him. I’ll call you later, or maybe I’ll just see you tomorrow, I don’t know. And if you do somehow bump into Michael, please don’t tell him that I told you about our meeting.”

Everything felt strange, like the world was moving just a pace or two faster than him. Like when a bad internet connection led to the actors’ mouths not matching up with their lines. But when it did finally catch up with him, Martin found himself slowly getting to his feet and nodded. “Alright, Jon, I’ll see you soon then. But please promise me that you’ll be careful. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but something just doesn’t- doesn’t feel right.”

“I’ll try,” Jon promised, tone wry, “but you’d think by now you’d realize that trouble has a way of finding me no matter how hard I try to avoid it.” Then he stood up on his tiptoes so that he could give Martin a brief kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Whatever’s going on with Michael, I’ll do whatever I can to help him get through it.”

It was tempting to just stay there and swap some more kisses with Jon, but Martin had to respect Jon’s wishes, and he left the flat, even though his feet felt far too heavy and his whole body was weighed down with negative thoughts. Surprisingly, none of them ran even close to the territory of jealousy or insecurity. No, Martin was just worried, despite Jon’s attempt to protect him from such a thing. He was worried about Michael, and he was worried about Jon. His (boyfriend? lover? significant other? coworker?) really did have a terrible knack for getting himself into all kinds of messes. 

,,,

Even though he normally went to bed a bit on the early side, Martin gulped down more cups of tea than he could comfortably consume, and waited with wide eyes as he stared at his phone. He should have at least made Jon promise to definitely call tonight, because that way at least Martin would have a better idea of when he should start getting really worried.

Expecting that he’d have to force himself to stay awake late into the night to ensure that he wouldn’t miss any calls from Jon, Martin gathered up everything in his flat that seemed even remotely useful for staving off sleep. So it was a bit of a surprise when his phone started buzzing not even three full hours after he’d left Jon.

As soon as he saw Jon’s name flash across the screen, he snatched up his phone and fumbled to swipe across in the right direction to actually answer the call. “Hello?”

“ _ I- I don’t quite understand, _ ” was the strange way that Jon started, without even bothering to go through the normal greetings that people usually used when talking on the phone with other people. “ _ Sorry, I forgot that you can’t see this. Michael never showed up at the restaurant that we’d planned on meeting at. Well he did, but he didn’t stick around long enough for me to actually get there. But he did leave a note with one of the hostesses to give to me. I don’t know why he didn’t text me or call me, since he clearly had to have known my number to get in contact with me in the first place, but- yeah. _ ”

There were a few seconds of silence, and Martin realized that he would have to prod Jon into continuing to explain whatever it was that was going on. “What did the note say?”

“ _ Huh? Oh- it says ‘now isn’t the right time, you aren’t ready, not until you learn the art of keeping secrets’ Obviously that’s supposed to be about the fact that I told you about him, but how on Earth could he have possibly found out? _ ”

Despite the bizarre situation, it warmed something in Martin’s heart to realize that it didn’t even seem to occur to Jon for a second that Martin might have been the one to spill the beans. It had to mean that Jon really trusted Martin. But that wasn’t the most important part of the current conversation, so Martin hurried to tune back in. “I’m curious about something. If I text you the number I still have saved for Michael, can you tell me if it’s the same number he used to contact you?”

Another pause, and then Jon spoke hesitantly. “ _ I doubt it’ll be the same. I mean- it just came up as all zeros. I thought at first that it had to be some kind of spam call, until I listened to the message that he left on my voicemail. Honestly, I don’t understand how you can only be curious about one thing in this situation. _ ” He laughed, and Martin had to laugh as well. “ _ I do wonder what it was that he wanted to talk about that was supposedly so important, though. Well, if it had to do with the archives, then maybe I’ll just figure it out on my own. Maybe Gertrude will remember something important about him. _ ”

“Or one of the other archival assistants,” Martin offered. He didn’t really know what he could do to help here, and it bothered him to know that Michael might be suffering somewhere alone, but at least he could try and come up with ideas. 

He wasn’t sure what he could have said wrong when he’d hardly said anything at all, but there were several very long seconds of silence that passed before Jon spoke, slowly and carefully like he needed to make sure that Martin didn’t misinterpret a single syllable. “What other assistants?”

Sometimes Jon had a weird, dry sense of humor that other people had trouble understanding, but Martin liked to think of himself as special because he almost always heard the joke. This time, though, there was no slight hint of teasing in Jon’s voice, and Martin frowned. “The others that work down in the archives with you, that work directly for Gertrude. Abby and Benoit? They’ve both been down in the basement longer than either you or me have worked in the Institute?”

Jon let out a nervous huff of laughter, which only made Martin’s stomach twist up in knots. “ _ Martin, I’m the only assistant down in the archives. It’s just been me and Gertrude down there since I got hired to replace Michael. Maybe you’re thinking of a different department? _ ” He spoke with the careful, gentle tone of someone trying to avoid outright accusing someone else of having a mental breakdown.

Martin took in several deep breaths as he tried to fortify himself. He knew that Abby and Benoit were real. He may not have spent nearly as much time with them as he had with Michael (or Jon, obviously), but he’d still spoken to both of them plenty of times in passing. 

Although now that he thought about it, it had been a little while since he’d actually seen or spoken with either of them. In fact, he couldn’t recall a single time he’d seen Benoit at all since Jon had been hired. And the last time he’d seen Abby was that day she’d been so grumpy when Martin had gone down there looking for Jon, and that had been almost three weeks ago. Martin tried to remember if either of the assistants’ desks had had anything on them at all the last time he’d been down in the basement, but he couldn’t recall, since he usually only paid attention to Jon while he was down there.

And on top of all that, Michael had apparently quit his job and left without saying a single word about it to any of his friends, and had then acted so strangely about trying to meet up with Jon only to leave a cryptic message instead of actually showing up.

All of that put together just made Martin’s stomach twist up even more, and he was worried for a moment that he might actually get physically sick. He gripped his phone tighter than he should have, and couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to wake up one morning and find that no one could remember anything about a Jonathan Sims ever working with them. 

He forced himself to take more deep breaths, though it was difficult to truly calm down now that adrenaline was coursing through his body. “Jon, I know that we- I mean we aren’t- or haven’t for long- but I just- could I come over for the night? Just to sleep, I swear, but I just need-”

“ _ Of course, Martin. As long as you don’t mind the relentless teasing that Georgie is sure to rain down upon us in the morning when she sees you. _ ”

Martin couldn’t even find it within himself to crack a smile. “I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, and then rushed to throw some clothes in a bag and head out the door, still wearing the sweatpants and ratty old tee shirt he’d put on for the night. He made it to Jon’s flat in record time, where he was instantly pulled into a comforting hug. 

That night, as they laid in Jon’s bed together, Martin found it very difficult to actually fall asleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jon, and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that Jon would still be there in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you can always kind of tell what mood I was in while writing the different parts of even a single chapter xD


	19. Date Plans & A New Pal

“C’mon, please?” Sasha asked with her hands pressed together in front of her. She batted her eyelids too, as if that would have any effect on Martin. “I promise that it’ll be super fun!”   


Martin shifted awkwardly on his feet, and glanced around the room as if any of the other researchers were suddenly going to jump to his rescue. He cleared his throat for longer than necessary just to stall for time, and then he finally let out a sigh of defeat. “I’ll have to ask Jon. I don’t think he’ll be very thrilled at the idea.”

Sasha shrugged. “That’s why I asked you. You’ll be able to convince him a lot more easily than I could.”

Knowing that at this point, it was best to just accept his fate, Martin just nodded. “You’re probably right. So when exactly will this be?”

“I was thinking Saturday around lunchtime. That’s when Allie has some time off.”

“Allie?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Tim just calls her ‘Coffee Girl’, but I’d appreciate it if you guys could start using her actual name.”

She turned to walk away, and immediately ran right into Tim, who had walked up behind her more quietly than usual. He had a big grin on his face that both Sasha and Martin knew spelled out trouble. “Did I hear someone making plans?”

After a quick glance back at Martin, Sasha tilted her head back to stare directly at Tim. “A double date with me, Allie, Martin, and Jon.”

Tim’s eyes immediately lit up with glee, which definitely was not a good sign. “Oh you know you can’t have a night out with everyone and not invite me.”

Martin opened his mouth to say something, but Sasha just shot him a sharp look, and he quickly pressed his lips together in a flat line while Sasha addressed Tim. “Tim, you know you’re my best friend, which is exactly why I didn’t want to invite you out with us. You’d just awkwardly be the fifth wheel, and it would be weird for everyone, but especially for you. How about next time, okay?”

Apparently Tim wasn’t at all bothered by Sasha’s words, because he just continued to grin down at her. “For your information, I could very easily get a date for the afternoon. There’s a particularly cute desk sergeant down at the local station who I wouldn’t mind taking out.”

Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, that guy again? No offense, Tim, but he smelled funny, and I’m pretty sure he never wore deodorant.”

Tim quickly shook his head. “What? No, not him, that was weeks ago. I’m talking about the other desk sergeant. The one with the blue eyes. She’s a lovely young woman, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know her a little better, especially if it means I get the chance to get to know you two’s partners a little better.”

Martin felt his face start to heat up. “P-partner?” He’d never actually used that word out loud to refer to Jon, but now that he had, it was giving him a funny feeling in his stomach. Then he had to shake his head to try and focus back on the issue at hand. “Look, Tim, Jon’s not- not over what happened the last time the two of you spent time together outside of work.”

To Tim’s credit, he did look apologetic for that. “How was I supposed to know he’s terrified of spiders? It’s such an irrational fear for such a rational guy.”

“Did you at least apologize to him?” Sasha asked, while looking like she desperately wanted to know what exactly had happened between Tim and Jon.

Tim opened his mouth to argue, but then sighed. “No, I guess I didn’t. Also I may or may not have spent the following two days telling him that he screams like an adorable little kitten.”

Martin winced on Tim’s behalf. “Yeah… Jon does not appreciate being called adorable.” He’d learned that the hard way himself, when it had slipped out and then led to him being given the silent treatment for almost an entire day. 

“Some kind of damn Napoleon complex,” Tim grumbled.

Sasha rolled her eyes. “First of all, that’s not even what a Napoleon complex means. And second of all, Napoleon was a perfectly respectable five foot six.”

Tim and Martin both stared at Sasha, though Tim spoke first. “Why do you even know that?” Then he barrelled on before Sasha could get the chance to answer him. “Also, this means that Napoleon was taller than Jon.” 

“Why would that even matter?”

Tim shrugged in Martin’s direction. “I dunno. Just seems important.” Then he turned back to Sasha. “So anyways, am I invited to lunch with you guys or not?”

Sasha heaved out a long sigh, but then she nodded. “Alright. As long as you promise to behave yourself. And make sure you apologize to Jon before Saturday for whatever it is you did.”

Then she walked off in the direction of her desk, and Tim gave Martin a hopeful look. “Will you go down with me? May as well get the apology over with now, and I’d prefer having some kind of buffer so that I can at least get a running start if Jon tries to kill me.”

“He’s not going to- fine, yes, I’ll go down with you. But only because I needed to talk to Jon anyways. Don’t mention the double- er, triple- date until I get the chance to bring it up, okay? I’m not sure how I’m going to convince him to go along with it. I don’t even know how Sasha convinced me to go along with it.”

Tim laughed and reached out to give Martin a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Well come on then.” They both took a moment to shuffle around papers at their respective desks, and then they left to head down to the archives together.

When they were most of the way down the stairs, Martin couldn’t help reaching out to grab Tim’s sleeve, pulling the other man to a stop. Tim looked back at him with one eyebrow raised, confusion clearly written across his face. Martin gulped before he spoke. “This is probably going to sound like a strange question, but do you remember the other archival assistants? Besides Jon?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean like Michael? I know the two of you were pretty good friends, though I didn’t think he stayed in touch with anyone. Why are you asking? Have you heard from him?”

There didn’t seem to be enough time or words to get into everything that had happened with Michael getting in touch with Jon, so Martin just brushed past that, and tried to redirect Tim back to his original question. “No, not Michael. There were two others, Abby and Benoit. They worked alongside Michael, and then after they worked with Jon. But now their desks are empty and nobody seems to have any idea who I’m talking about.”

Several agonizingly long seconds passed, and then Tim gave Martin a strange look. “Are you sure you’re alright? There’s never been any other assistants in the archives, at least not since I’ve been working here.”

Ah, Martin should have known better than to think that there was anyone else who would be able to confirm that he wasn’t just going crazy. His shoulders slumped down, and he let out a soft sigh. “You’re right, I was probably just- just dreaming or something. Anyways, let’s go.” In the past week, Martin had asked many people about the other assistants, but nobody could recall them ever existing. It was disconcerting, to say the least, but Martin had no idea what to actually do about it. Apparently just because they worked in a place that researched the supernatural didn’t mean his coworkers believed him about something as strange as people vanishing without a trace.

They made their way through the basement together, until they got to the bullpen with the empty desks. Jon’s was the only one with any stuff on it; in fact there was so much stuff on Jon’s desk that most of it was stacked up in precariously balanced piles that looked like they were defying gravity to even still be standing.

Martin cleared his throat to get Jon’s attention, but when that didn’t work, he reached out to gently touch Jon’s shoulder. Jon looked up, and blinked a few times. He had the look of someone who was disoriented from being woken during a nap, which was pretty much what he always looked like when someone disturbed him while he was in the middle of working on something. “Hey.”

“Don’t tell me it’s time to go home already, we just got here. Even I can tell the difference between a few minutes and a full workday,” he grumbled.

Tim cleared his throat so that Jon would look at him instead, and his expression dropped as soon as it landed on Tim. “Jon, I’m really sorry about the spi- about the thing that I did. If I had known you were so scared of spiders, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m not scared of them,” Jon huffed. But then he gave a slight nod. “But I do appreciate the apology.”

Then Tim looked at Martin, indicating that it was his turn to speak, gave Martin a slap on the back, and sauntered away. Martin just sighed. “Well, that being said, I wanted to ask if you have any plans on Saturday. See, it’s just that Sasha wants to have a double date-”

“Absolutely not.”

“-and Tim sort of invited himself along too-”

“That only makes me less likely to want to participate in such a ridiculous event.”

“-and if you don’t agree to come to this then I’ll tell Georgie that you were the one who borrowed, and subsequently lost, that skirt she wanted to wear to her birthday party.”

“I didn’t ‘lose’ it, it just got a bit singed and…” he trailed off in the middle of his complaint, and then stared at Martin with wide eyes. “Martin, are you blackmailing me?”

Martin blinked a few times, then shrugged. “I- I guess I am. What do you think?”

Jon gave Martin a very long, scrutinizing look, and then he smiled and shook his head. “Well, it was pretty good for a first attempt, I’ll give you that. Alright, I’ll go along with this madness. But only if you agree to- to come to the shelter with me tomorrow.”

“The shelter? Why?”

Jon sighed, and reached up to push his glasses up even though they hadn’t been falling down. “I had to go the other day to follow up on a statement for Gertrude, and I couldn’t help thinking that it might be- be nice, to have a pet.”

It was weirdly easy to picture Jon cuddled up on a couch with a dog that was bigger than him, though instead of the familiar beaten up old couch that resided in Jon’s flat, it was the one Martin remembered from his childhood home. “Yeah, alright, I’ll go with you,” he agreed with more ease than he probably should have. “Georgie will probably thank me when I stop you from taking the whole shelter home with you.” 

Jon rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, even as his attention drifted back down towards whatever he’d been in the middle of before Tim and Martin had interrupted. He scrunched up his nose the way he often did when he was busy concentrating, and Martin was nearly overwhelmed by how adorable Jon was. He had to resist the urge to actually say that out loud, though, and instead settled for bending over and pressing a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. It felt like a victory when Jon didn’t even bother with a token swat at him. 

,,,

Martin clasped one hand over his mouth to stop himself from squealing out loud out the sight in front of him. Not only were the many animals circling around Jon cute on their own, but Jon was kneeling on the floor, making sure to pet each of the animals an equal amount of time, and laughing when they licked at him, and it was wonderful. Martin wondered if Jon would notice if Martin were to pull out his phone and make a recording of this moment so that he could look back at it whenever he wanted to.

Unfortunately, the moment ended while Martin was still internally debating with himself, and he watched as Jon stood back up, knees cracking slightly as he did. Cradled in his arms was what looked like nothing more than a little ball of orange fluff. “I think this is the one, Martin.”

“How do you know?”

Jon shrugged as he looked down at the cat in his arms. “Just feels right to me.”

They went back to the front desk, and Jon was handed a clipboard with some paperwork that they needed to fill out. As they sat down in the nearby chairs so that Jon could start scribbling in the answers, another question popped into Martin’s head. “Does Georgie know that you plan on going home with a new pet today?”

The way that Jon’s hand paused for just a second before resuming writing was telling enough. “I’m sure she won’t mind,” Jon answered casually, as if they were discussing him buying the wrong brand of shampoo rather than bringing a living being into their lives. “Our building allows pets, and I think at one point Georgie made a joke about someday being a crazy cat lady, which means that she must like cats. So yeah, this is probably fine.”

Martin only hoped that Jon would survive whatever Georgie decided to do to him once she found out that he adopted a pet without talking to her about it first. “What are your favorite kind of flowers?”

Jon peered at Martin out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it. Why? If you’re planning on buying me some, then don’t bother. I’m never able to keep them alive.”

“No, I was just wondering what kind I should bring to your funeral.”

Jon rolled his eyes as he focused back on the paperwork. “Don’t be so dramatic. Georgie is gonna love this. And besides, she’s a very non-violent person.”

,,,

Martin was just getting ready for bed when he saw his phone ring, and he frowned when he saw it was Jon. He answered immediately. “Hello?”

There was a long pause, and then Jon sighed.  _ “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get my hands on a cheap microwave, would you?” _

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “What? What happened to your microwave?”

The silence lasted even longer this time, but Jon did finally respond.  _ “... I don’t think it’s that important. In other, completely unrelated news, Georgie declared that she loves the Admiral more than she loves me.” _

“The Admiral?”

_ “The cat.” _

Of course Martin didn’t mean to laugh at Jon, but he just couldn’t help it. It started as an escaped giggle, but quickly transformed into a laugh that shook his whole body. “You are the most ridiculous person in the world!” Once he finally managed to get his laughter under control, he sank down onto the edge of his bed. “And luckily for you, I do know where you might find a cheap microwave.”

It felt like he could actually hear the smile in Jon’s voice. “My hero,” he said wryly. “Anyways, now that you know I’m still alive, hopefully you’ll be able to sleep without worrying. Goodnight, Martin.”

Martin knew that the grin on his face had to look ridiculous, but he didn’t care. “Goodnight, Jon.” __


	20. Chaos

The silence stretched out awkwardly as everyone just stared at Tim. He sighed, and ended up being the first one to speak. “Look, can we maybe not talk about this here in public? I kinda want to go and get shit-faced and then maybe sleep for a few days.”

Martin looked over at Jon, Sasha, and Allie, but none of them seemed like they had anything to say, and clearly they couldn’t just leave Tim hanging like that. Which meant that it was on Martin to say something. He cleared his throat, and tried not to shift uncomfortably in his seat as everyone’s attention snapped over to him. “Do you- do you need a towel or something?”

Tim shook his head, sending droplets of wine flying in every direction. When everyone shouted in protest, he gave them a sheepish look. “Sorry. But no, I should probably just go home and shower.” He looked down at the dark red stain on his chest. “There’s no way this shirt is salvageable.”

“It’s one of your least favorite shirts anyways,” Jon pointed out.

Tim started to nod, but then frowned and looked at Jon curiously. “You’re right, but how would you know that?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. You must have mentioned it at some point. How else would I know?”   


Martin cleared his throat again, in an attempt to stop the conversation from getting entirely derailed. “Right, do you need a ride home, then, Tim?”

“I would appreciate that. I’m sure you could tell that my date isn’t exactly going to be giving me a ride.”

Everyone seemed to wince at the same time at the reminder of what had just happened a couple of minutes ago. Martin stood up, glad to have been assigned a task. It was better than just sitting around and feeling awkward for having been made into a witness of Tim’s relationship drama. He looked down at Jon, who was still sitting. “Are you coming?” Since he’d been the one to give Jon a ride to the restaurant, it seemed like it would be pretty rude to just ditch him there to get a ride from Sasha. 

Jon blinked a couple of times, then gave a jerky nod before he stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. He fished out his wallet so that he could toss some bills down on the table, and then turned to look at Allie. “It was, uh, nice to meet you.”

Allie gave him a bemused little smile. “You as well. Sasha talks about all of you all the time.” Then she turned her head slightly to look at Tim instead. “You might be able to save that shirt still, if you mix dish soap and hydrogen peroxide and spread it over the stain for a little while before you wash it off. I know it sounds like a pain in the butt, but trust me, it works like a charm.”

Tim nodded, and gave Allie one of his typical charming smiles. “Thanks for the advice. And it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m just sorry that such a lovely day had to get ruined.”

Allie just laughed at that. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was just waiting for something to go wrong. Just from everything Sasha’s told me about all of you, I knew that this was bound to end in disaster. But at least it was an entertaining disaster.”

Tim scoffed. “I’m glad that I could entertain you.” He didn’t sound angry with her, he just sounded like he was teasing.

“Alright, now hurry along before you can act too charming around my girlfriend,” Sasha grumbled good-naturedly.

Martin, Jon, and Tim all got into Martin’s car, and it was a silent ride other than Tim occasionally giving directions to his place. When they arrived, they all just sat there for a few extra seconds before Tim actually unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. And I really am sorry about all of that. I know that Sasha was really looking forward to having all of us hang out as one big group.”

“It’s fine,” Jon assured him. “I didn’t want to go to this anyways, so really you just saved me some trouble.” He hesitated for a moment, then turned around in his seat so that he could face Tim directly. “I may not exactly be an expert on relationships or anything, but even I know that you shouldn’t bring a date to the place where your ex works.”

Tim held his hands up. “Hey, I had no idea that he worked there! He’s a desk sergeant at the police station, why would I expect him to be a waiter on the weekends? And anyways, I’d hardly say that he qualified as an ex. We weren’t exactly dating, if you know what I mean.”

Before Jon could say anything too snide, Martin quickly cut in. “You should get going before it’s too late to save your shirt.”

Tim just stared at both of them for a moment, and then nodded once. “Sure, yeah. Well, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Back to the daily grind, as it were.” Then he got out of the car and walked up to the building that they’d stopped in front of. 

Once he was safely inside, Jon turned back to face front again, while Martin tilted his head to the side as he looked at Jon. “Do you want me to take you home now?”

“Where else would you take me?”

Martin shrugged one shoulder. “Well, we are both dressed up, and we were both expecting at least some kind of date.” He was already thinking of the possibilities of where he could take Jon. He tried to mentally figure out whether he’d be able to get away with bringing Jon to do something fun, like laser tag or paintball. Sure, those were typically meant for a younger crowd, but Martin was pretty sure that he and Jon could both do with a bit of fun in their lives. 

He didn’t get the chance to make any of his suggestions, though, because Jon’s phone started ringing. He had awkwardly stretch out so that he could grab his phone from his front pocket, and his eyebrows were furrowed adorably as he looked at the name. He answered it and held out a finger towards Martin to indicate that he should be quiet. “Hello?”

Whoever was on the other end must have been talking pretty quietly, because Martin couldn’t even make out the soft sounds of someone speaking. He just watched Jon’s face, which seemed to grow more and more confused the longer he listened. Then he finally hung up, and Martin looked at him curiously. “Is everything alright?”

Jon nodded, and slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, it’s just… that was Gertrude. She said she needs to see me about something right away. How far are we from my place?”

Martin glanced over at the road to see how much traffic there was at the moment. “Probably about half an hour or so.”

Jon let out an irritated sigh. “Of course. Ugh, look, I hate to ask, but would you be able to give me a ride to Gertrude’s? I’ve been there before, so I can give you directions.”

“You’ve been to your boss’ house before?”

Jon clearly didn’t see anything wrong with that. “Yeah. She’s just as much of a workaholic as I am, and sometimes we need to get stuff down outside of the office. Especially when it’s a weekend, like today. If you already had other plans, I completely understand, I just-”

Martin reached out to gently touch the side of Jon’s arm. “It’s fine, Jon, I can give you a ride to Gertrude’s. Where does she live?”

,,,

As it turned out, Gertrude Robinson lived surprisingly far from the center of the city. It was no wonder Jon hadn’t wanted to deal with the additional detour of going back to get his own car to make the journey himself. And Martin honestly didn’t mind. During the ride, he and Jon were able to chat and joke and laugh, and it had been just as good as if they’d been able to have a nice lunch out like Sasha had originally planned.

Jon had asked Martin to wait in the car once they’d actually arrived, though, and now Martin had just been getting bored for the past twenty minutes. He would of course stay for as long as Jon needed him to, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that Jon would be done in there sooner rather than later. 

As he sat there, listening to music on his phone and lightly drumming his fingers against the top of the steering wheel, he wondered what could be so urgent down in the archives that it required immediate attention. Weren’t all the stories down there old? And didn’t that mean that pretty much the same information would be found regardless of when an investigation took place?

It startled Martin when his music abruptly shut off, and was replaced a moment later by his ring tone. When he grabbed his phone from where he’d balanced it on the dashboard, he frowned at the unfamiliar number. If it was a telemarketer then he could just hang up, but it seemed rude to not answer at all. Especially if it turned out to be anything important.

So he held the phone up to his ear and tried not to sound too nervous when he spoke. “Hello? Who is this?”

There was a long moment of silence, though after a few seconds, Martin realized that it wasn’t completely silent. Though it came through very quietly, when he really concentrated, Martin could hear the sound of someone breathing on the other end. He gripped his phone tighter, and just as he resolved to hang up and block the number, someone spoke to him.  _ “Martin Blackwood?” _

Martin didn’t recognize the voice, so it didn’t help to relax him at all. “Yes. Now who is this?”

_ “Don’t you remember me? I thought that you did. I heard that you were asking about me recently. I used to work in the archives, just like your boyfriend.” _

Martin’s eyes widened in surprise, and even though he still didn’t think the voice sounded familiar, he knew who it had to be. “Benoit? Where are you? What happened to you? Why doesn’t anyone else remember you?” 

There was an unhappy sounding laugh before a response came. _ “The archives are a dangerous place, Martin. I know we only ever spoke a couple of times when you were visiting with Michael, but I can tell that you are a good person. You deserve to know the truth. Or at least enough of it to stop you from driving yourself mad over it. Though of course, I can’t tell you more than I know myself.” _

When he didn’t keep talking, Martin found himself squeezing his hand even tighter around his phone. “What do you know?”

When there was another long several seconds of silence, he was worried that the connection had been lost, or that he’d been hung up on, and he couldn’t help letting out a loud sigh of relief when Benoit actually spoke again. _ “Working in the archives is very dangerous, Martin. And Jon is more vulnerable than most. Keep a close eye on him, or you’ll wake up someday to find that he is gone. Or maybe it will be something even worse.” _

“But I doubt I’d ever be able to forget Jon. I still remember you, and we barely even knew each other.”

_ “Hm. Yes, you do remember me, don’t you? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why that is?” _

Martin gulped. “What are you talking about? What actually happened to you? And why am I the only one who remembers you? Please, you have to tell me. If Jon is in danger, then I have to know how to help him.” 

There was another pause, and Martin couldn’t help wondering if Benoit was doing that on purpose, just to hike up Martin’s stress for no reason.  _ “Did I say that he’s in danger?” _

“Yes! You literally just did!”

_ “Hm. No, I said that he’s vulnerable. In this world, there are some things that are a whole lot worse than just being in danger.” _

Martin had to resist the urge to start shouting. He didn’t want to scare Benoit off. Not when he still needed answers and he had no idea when he might get another opportunity to get them. He took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. “Please, just tell me what I can do to make sure that nothing happens to Jon. despite all of his complaints about it, I know that he loves his job, but if it’s not safe for him to stay working down there then I’ll- I’ll figure out how to convince him of that. But to do that, I need more information.”   


_ “The longer Jon works down there, the more worried I would be, if I were you. But I wouldn’t be too worried about him. Whatever happens, I’m sure that he’ll be alive, at the very least. No, it’s you that you should worry about. Everyone who goes down into the archives becomes a monster, Martin. And monsters are only dangerous to those who they are closest to.” _

There were a million other things that Martin still wanted to ask, but it was obvious that Benoit hung up on him, and Martin nearly threw his phone onto the floor in frustration. That was such a bizarre conversation that shouldn’t have even been possible, but it had still succeeded in sending chills down his spine and making him worry about the future.

As if he could be summoned from being thought about, Jon emerged from Gertrude’s house carrying a stack of old looking books. He got into the car and carefully balanced the stack on his lap before buckling himself in place. He looked up at Martin with a wry grin, though it quickly faded as he saw whatever raw emotions must have been showing on Martin’s face. “What happened?”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me even if I told you about it.” 

Jon shrugged. “So? Tell me about it anyways. Whatever happened was obviously real enough to you to make you so upset, and if it’s something that matters that much to you, then it- then it matters to me too.” His voice got quieter by the time he finished talking, clearly embarrassed by his own words.

Martin sighed, and tried to think of where to even begin. “Remember that time I asked you about other assistants working down in the archives?” Jon nodded, a serious look on his face, but he didn’t say anything. “Well about that…” Martin knew that it was probably a good thing that it was such a long drive back to Jon’s flat, because even as he started talking, he knew that sharing everything was going to take a while. 


	21. The Game is Afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a delay in posting this. With the newest episode being about the assistants it did a pretty thorough job of derailing my plot, so I had to really think everything over and make changes to my plans for future chapters to make everything still work the way that I want it to.

Martin finished up what he was working on, then set everything aside in a plain yellow file folder. He had a little basket on one corner of his desk that he liked to use for keeping himself better organized, since it was where he always put his completed work that needed to be filed away.

When he was done, he stood up and stretched, wincing slightly at just how loudly his back cracked. He’d clearly been leaning over his desk for too long. Somedays it seemed like he was even starting to get as bad as Jon about pulling himself away from his work when he was in the middle of something so fascinating.

But now that he’d reached a natural stopping point, Martin figured that it was time to take a little tea break. He passed by Sasha’s desk on the way to the break room, but he didn’t bother asking her if she wanted anything to drink. He could still see the paper cup on her desk with the label from the coffee shop that her girlfriend worked in. 

After having worked at the Institute for so long, it was all part of the routine to flick the switch on the electric kettle, and then reach up and rummage through one of the cupboards for his mug. He’d done it so many times that he could probably do it blindfolded, or in his sleep.

Something was different this time, though, and Martin couldn’t help frowning slightly. Having made tea in here so often, and for so many people, Martin had a general idea of how many mugs should be in the cupboard at any given moment. It was rare for everyone to happen to be drinking tea or coffee at the same time, and there were usually about twelve or thirteen mugs with various colors and designs stored in the break room.

This time, though, there were only two. And the really strange part was that Martin hadn’t seen mugs resting on any more desks than usual. So where had all of the extra mugs gone? If this was a normal workplace, Martin would probably just assume that they’d been accidentally broken, or maybe that a different department had borrowed them for something or other. But this wasn’t any other workplace, this was the Magnus Institute. It would be naive to think that anything that happened within these walls could be explained away so easily.

Martin pulled out the three mugs that were left, and found that they were his, Tim’s, and the one that Martin always used to bring tea to Jon. What were the odds that it was just a coincidence that the remaining mugs were the ones that Martin recognized the easiest? 

Thinking about missing mugs ended up getting Martin on the same train of thought as missing coworkers, and then he couldn’t help but think about the mysterious case of Benoit and Abby. He hadn’t thought too much about either of the missing assistants in a few weeks, since he’d been able to figure out nothing new about their case, and it had seemed hopeless that he’d ever solve it. 

Martin found himself heading down to the basement before he even gave it much thought. Whenever there was something particularly strange going on, he wanted to be able to see Jon with his own eyes. Both to make sure that the other man was alright, but also because it brought Martin comfort just from being around him. 

In the archives, everything seemed the same as always, with Jon working hard at his desk that was surrounded by empty ones, and Gertrude was in her office with the door closed and the shades drawn down. Martin blamed muscle memory for the fact that he put Jon’s empty mug down on the desk, but before he could apologize and take it back, Jon absent-mindedly reached up to grab the mug and raise it to his lips.

It took some effort to not laugh out loud even though it was quite obvious the exact moment that Jon realized he was just drinking air. He slowly lowered the mug and peered into it expectantly, as if it was going to contain something other than nothing, and then gingerly put it back down on his desk. He turned in his chair to look up at Martin, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What…?”  
Martin sighed as he felt the good humor of the previous moment vanish into the air. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I was still holding it when I came down here.”

Jon tilted his head to the side as he looked Martin over carefully. “Is there a reason that you came down here if it wasn’t with the intention of bringing me tea?” He didn’t sound judgemental, but Martin still couldn’t help feeling somewhat awkward about the whole situation.

He shifted on his feet, and then shuffled just a bit closer to Jon. “Am I not allowed to come down simply because I wanted to see you? Maybe I just missed your adorable little scowl.”

Jon scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears got a little darker. “Don’t be ridiculous, Martin. You saw me yesterday.” He paused, then added as an afternote, “And I am not adorable.”

Then it was Martin’s turn to scoff, since he strongly disagreed with the statement that had just been made. But he definitely knew better than to try and get into an argument about it. When it came to accepting compliments, Jon was insufferably unskilled at it. He tried to think of another plausible reason that he might have come down to see Jon in the middle of the workday, but nothing really came to mind. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to all of the mugs in the third floor break room, would you?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “No. Why would I? You know that I never go up there.” 

Martin shrugged. “It’s just a bit of a mystery, I suppose. And you do sometimes know about the randomest things that go on around here.” Since he was already down here anyways, Martin decided that he might as well ask something a bit more personal. “Are you doing anything after work today? Do you want to go on a- on a date?” Even though it was a question that had been asked and answered many times before, from both of them, Martin wasn’t sure if he’d ever get any less nervous when he was the one doing the asking.

Jon raised one eyebrow, then let out an affirmative sounding grunt. “What do you want to do?”

Martin clasped his hands together behind his back, and rocked awkwardly on his feet. “Uh, I was thinking that maybe… maybe we could go to the zoo? After what you told me about it, I thought that it might be fun. Even if, uh, even if the rides aren’t quite as thrilling for me as they are for you.”

Jon rolled his eyes again, but for someone who knew him as well as Martin did, there was no denying the fact that the man looked quite pleased. “Alright. I don’t have anything in particular that I need to stay late for, so we can just leave together once we’re both done for the day.”

Excited for their plans, Martin found it too difficult to resist leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. He knew that Jon wasn’t the biggest fan of PDAs, but with Gertrude locked away in her office and no other assistants in sight, it really wasn’t all that public. Though the giddy feeling was slightly dimmed as he accidentally reminded himself of the missing assistants once again. 

,,,

The date ended up being much more fun than Martin could have anticipated, as he and Jon went on the carousel together, and looked at all the animals, and shared a tray of chips (that Martin graciously didn’t comment on when Jon ended up eating the majority of them). 

As they strolled around the zoo in one last circuit before they’d leave, Martin couldn’t help staring at Jon’s face. His cheeks were flushed from the slightly chilly evening air, and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he waved his hand around and enthusiastically explained the differences between jam, jelly, and preserves. Martin had no clue how they’d ended up on this topic, but he knew that he could listen to Jon go on about it all day. 

Once they were in the parking lot next to Martin’s car, Jon surprised them both when he stood up on his tiptoes to press a shy kiss to the corner of Martin’s mouth. Then he immediately ducked away as his cheeks got much darker. Jon jammed his hands into his jacket pocket, and cleared his throat a few times. “So… I’ve been thinking. About what you told me about Michael and the- the other assistants.”

“You don’t have to humor me, Jon. I know you don’t believe in the supernatural. You’ve always been a very logics based person, even when we were kids. Remember the time you made an entire presentation on why superheroes couldn’t possibly exist? It was like three hours long!”

Jon snorted at the memories that had to bring up for him. “You’re the one who chose to listen to the whole thing.”

“Three hours,” Martin stressed. Then he had to smile fondly when a look of embarrassment spread across Jon’s face. Though of course Jon was right; Martin could have easily stopped Jon back then, but he hadn’t. He’d thought that it would be too rude to interrupt the person that he’d supposedly been married too (though he tried not to think about that, because it just made him think of the time that Georgie had pointed out that they were technically still married, even though they’d never gotten married for real in the first place). 

Jon laughed, and despite the cool temperature outside, Martin immediately felt warmed up just from that pleasant noise. He wished that it was easier to make Jon laugh, because he loved the sound of it. But he could see that Jon was trying to build up to something important, so he forced himself to focus. “You know how everyone always jokes about how Gertrude just kind of knows everything that goes on in the Institute? Well what if there’s at least some truth to it? What if she knows about those assistants?”

Martin stared at Jon in surprise. “You say that as if you’re actually entertaining the idea that I’m not a complete lunatic.”

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I can’t exactly disprove it. And besides… I do believe in a lot of- a lot of weird things. I’ve had certain, er, experiences. Things that can’t really be explained away by logic or science. When I was a kid, I mean.”

That was certainly news to Martin. Somehow, every time he thought that he had actually gotten Jon figured out, something had to happen to go and prove him wrong. Not that that was a bad thing, though. It could be quite nice to learn new things about Jon, like little surprise pieces of information.

At the moment, though, Martin found it easier to focus on the potential information than on their relationship. “As a kid? Why didn’t you ever tell me? Was it after- after I moved away?” Even though things had been resolved between them, they both seemed to have come to a silent agreement to not discuss the traumatic breakup from their childhood.

Jon sighed, which sent out a puff of visible air from his mouth, and Martin suddenly remembered that they were still standing out in the dark parking lot of the zoo. He quickly glanced around, and then his shoulders slumped down in relief when he confirmed that they were alone out there. This wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation that should be held in front of random strangers.

As if Jon came to the same conclusion at the same time, both of them turned and got into the car. Martin turned it on so that the heater could kick in and help warm them both up. After a few seconds, Jon finally responded to Martin’s questions. “It was before you moved. There was a couple of instances, actually. The first time was long enough ago that I can barely remember it, but I do vividly remember a woman who moved and spoke without ever moving or speaking. And that probably makes no sense when I actually say it out loud, right?” He sighed, and leaned back in his seat. “The second time is one that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. Do you remember that time when I was somewhat comatose, and stuck in bed for ages, and clearly very upset about something? I’m pretty sure I cried all over you at the time.”

There weren’t many times Martin could recall when he’d actually seen Jon cry. When they’d been children, Martin had definitely been the bigger crybaby. Even when Jon was hurt for one reason or another, he’d always had the tendency to keep it to himself. So it wasn’t to difficult for Martin to figure out which time Jon was talking about. “I remember that you refused to talk to anyone about what had happened, and you were pretty out of it for a while.” It had also been the most worried he’d ever seen Jon’s grandmother look, but that seemed like a mean thing to say out loud. “Do you want to talk about what happened now?”

Jon took a moment to think about it, then politely shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I might not ever be ready to. But the point is that I do believe. So if you’re really this certain that those assistants existed, then I’m going to choose to believe you. This comes back to my original point, about Gertrude. If she really does know about what happened to those assistants, then we should be able to find out too.”

“How, by asking her really nicely?” Martin asked with a soft snort.

Jon just rolled his eyes and elected to ignore that. “Don’t be ridiculous, Martin. It’s late enough that even Gertrude should have gone home for the night.” Instead of suggesting that they talk to her in the morning, like a reasonable person would, Jon jumped right to something that Martin definitely hadn’t expected. “Her office should be empty right now, which means that it should be easy enough for us to look around and find whatever information we need.”

Martin stared at his boyfriend with wide eyes. “You’re saying that you- that you want to break into her office? The office of Gertrude Robinson, your boss, who is also a terrifying lady? Am I understanding this correctly?”

Jon nodded, looking pretty confident. “Yup. Are you ready to go?”

“Wha- now? But we can’t- I mean- we just-” Martin sputtered until Jon reached over and pressed his hand against his mouth, which was a surprisingly effective method of calming Martin down. Once he felt calm enough, he reached up to take Jon’s hand and lower it, and then he gave Jon a long look. Jon took the hint and pulled his hand away. “Jon, not only is that extremely immoral, but it’s also illegal. We could get arrested and go to jail!”

“It’s not trespassing if we work there,” Jon told him in his tone that was always reserved for when he was saying something stupid in a way that almost made it sound reasonable.

But between Martin’s own curiosity about what had happened to the assistants, and his inability to say no to Jon, he found himself agreeing to help Jon break into Gertrude’s office. He just hoped that they weren’t asking for trouble by doing this. 


	22. The More You Learn, The Less You Know

Martin did not appreciate the looks that Jon was giving him, considering that this whole thing had been Jon’s idea in the first place. “What? Don’t look at me like that,” he said in a volume just above a whisper.

Jon let out a soft pfft that was probably supposed to be laughter. “It’s not that I’m judging you or anything… but seriously, why do you have these things in your car? Between the rope, the heavy duty garbage bags, the small shovel, and the three different torches, I’m inclined to believe you’re secretly a midnight murderer.”   


“They’re for in case of emergencies,” Martin hissed out defensively. “And what difference does it make to you, as long as you’ve got the tools to commit this crime?”

Jon didn’t seem to be at all bothered by the question. “I already told you, it isn’t breaking in if we work here. Besides, if there is a supernatural mystery of some sort going on here, then isn’t it actually our jobs to try and solve it?”   


Martin shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I thought that the Magnus Institute was all about documenting the freaky stuff, not getting involved with it.”

“Well, if it’s happening in our workplace, then we are part of the freaky stuff, so it’s our duty to- to document. We’re the statement givers here. Now, if you’re coming in with me, then let’s get going.”

“Do I even have any other choice?”   


Jon raised one eyebrow as he tipped his head back to properly meet Martin’s eyes. “Of course you do. What kind of man do you think I am if you think that I’d just drag you into a potentially dangerous situation against your will? You can just stay here and keep lookout, if you’d prefer. Or drive to the end of the street and be my getaway driver.”   


How had Martin known Jon for as long as he had, yet somehow never realized that he was actually a little criminal? “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m going in with you.” Maybe it was stupid to encourage Jon’s apparently criminal tendencies, but it was worth it for the smile that Jon gave him. Jon was usually so stingy with his smiles- the real, genuine ones- and Martin was a sucker for them.

Jon grabbed Martin’s free hand (the other was holding the torch), and pulled him around to the back of the building. “Come on, we can get in through the back fire door, I’ve got the key.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re just an assistant. Why do you have the fire key?”

“I made a copy of Gertrude’s key a while ago so that I can show up before the front doors open in the morning. She kicks me out so early everyday that I have no other choice if I really want to get all my work done in a reasonable amount of time. Did you know that she won’t even let me take any of it home at night?”

Martin decided not to point out what a workaholic Jon was. He was sure that his boyfriend was already well aware of that fact. Instead, he just stayed quiet and followed Jon into the building. He tried not to think about how much creepier the basement looked in the middle of the night with nothing but the thin circle of light from the torch to illuminate the place. 

They continued to hold hands as they moved through the musty hall, until they reached Gertrude’s office. That’s where Jon came to an abrupt halt, and tilted his head to the side. “Ah, there might be something that I didn’t consider about all of this. I don’t have a key to Gertrude’s office.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped down, and he honestly couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed or not. On the one hand, he really didn’t want to get arrested after having such a pleasant date. On the other hand, he really wanted to know what had happened to Abby and Benoit. Even if he’d barely known them, they still deserved some kind of justice, and it wasn’t too hard to believe that Gertrude might be the one they would be able to get some answers from. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. We definitely can’t break the door down. Maybe we should just try asking politely in the morning?”

But he could already see from the look on Jon’s face that they weren’t done yet. “Well, we can’t break the door down, but there’s no reason we can’t get it open through other means. Do you have any bobby pins on you?”   


Martin reluctantly let go of Jon’s hand so that he could stick it into his jacket pocket to scrounge around. He’d started carrying around hair ties and bobby pins once he’d realized how prone Jon was to losing them despite always needing them. And just like usual, he was able to procure a couple of bobby pins. He held them out triumphantly, and Jon stretched up to kiss Martin’s cheek before he took them.

Jon snapped one of the bobby pins in half so that it was two separate pieces, then he knelt down in front of the door and carefully stuck one of the halves in through the keyhole. Martin felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Don’t tell me you know how to pick locks?”   


“It’s actually pretty easy on a basic lock like this one. Gertrude’s too old-fashioned to have anything too fancy. I can teach you how, if you want, though I’ll admit that I only learned from watching youtube videos, and I can only do the basic stuff.”

Being able to pick locks did seem like a useful life skill, though Martin was somewhat worried that learning how would almost guarantee that he would use it for illegal purposes at some point or another. “Hm. I think I’ll just be satisfied knowing that I can ask you for help if I ever need to have a lock picked.”

Jon let out a snort of amusement. “I’m at your beck and call.” A few seconds later there was a soft click, and then Jon was able to turn the doorknob and push the door to the office open. “Shine the torch in here, I don’t want to turn the light on.”

They went into the office, and Martin took the opportunity to really look at everything. It was a little disappointing to realize that it just looked like an ordinary office that could have been taken from any random office building in the city. “I thought that it would be more… something.” He quickly hurried on before the laughter in Jon’s eyes could become audible. “Hey, it’s not like I have any experience with the archives other than visiting you down here! Who knows what kind of weird and creepy stuff the Head Archivist might want to keep within her sight?”

“Artifact storage exists for a reason, Martin.” The teasing tone in Jon’s voice did nothing but make Martin’s heart beat faster in his chest. How was it that even the smallest thing could make Martin feel more and more in love? Wait- love? Was that- did he- was Martin actually in love? He looked over at where Jon was rummaging through a filing cabinet, muttering under his breath about Gertrude’s abysmal organization skills. His hair was a mess with more of it falling out of the ponytail than contained by it, and he was still wearing his stuffy work clothes. Yes, Martin decided, he was in love. And now that he’d figured that out for sure, it would be hell to keep himself from blurting it out. But he had to, because he knew Jon well enough to know that a strong confession might send him running for the hills.

Martin didn’t really know what he could do to help with this investigation, so he stayed where he was, making sure to keep the light shining on whatever Jon was looking at at any given moment. And while Jon searched through the files for any information that might be relevant to the missing assistants, Martin just stared at Jon, taking in every detail he could see in the dim lighting.

After a few more minutes of thoroughly investigating his boyfriend, Martin ended up asking something that had been on his mind for a few weeks now. “Why don’t you wear skirts and stuff anymore? You clearly like them, but I haven’t seen you wear any in a while, not even when there’s time for you to change before a date.”

Jon glanced up with one eyebrow raised, as if to say ‘you want to talk about this now?’ but when Martin remained resolute, Jon sighed, and turned fully to face Martin. “It’s the middle of winter, Martin. Of course it’s too cold to be wearing such things.”

“Okay…” Jon started to turn back to the filing cabinet, but Martin wasn’t finished yet. “Now will you tell me the real reason why?”

Jon let out a heavy sigh, and slammed the drawer shut with a lot more force than necessary. “Honestly, what difference does it make? Shouldn’t you be happy that you don’t have to worry about being caught in public with a- a crossdresser?”

Martin frowned, and started to think that maybe he should have waited to have this conversation until later. But now that it had started, he didn’t think it could be postponed. “Jon, I just want you to do whatever makes you most comfortable. Who cares what anyone else thinks? Besides, you look- you’re very- I mean…” he trailed off, trying to think of a good way to word his feelings without making it sound like he had some kind of fetish. “You look good when you dress the way you want. Because it’s when you tend to look more confident in yourself.”

“Well it’s just- it looks a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? A man wearing women’s clothing?”

Martin shook his head. “It doesn’t look ridiculous, I swear. Anyways, it can’t be women’s clothing if it’s owned by a man, right?” That got a bit of a snort from Jon, which Martin decided to take as a win. “What’s brought this on suddenly, anyways? Haven’t you been dressing the way you want for ages?” It’s what he’d assumed after seeing Jon wearing a skirt that first time he’d spotted him on trivia night.

Jon crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw. “No. I only started after my grandmother died.”

“Why?”

Martin waited patiently until Jon finally looked up at him. “Because she hated it. I think she hated that part of me more than she ever hated me liking men or not liking sex.” His face darkened slightly on the last word, but his voice didn’t falter.

They were both silent for a few seconds before Martin asked, “But she died a while ago at this point. When you first started working here you’d said your grandmother had died a few months ago, and you’ve been working here for nearly a year now. So something more recent must’ve happened to have you questioning yourself like this. Did somebody say something to you? You know that you can report other employees for harassment, right?”

“Who said it was an Institute employee?”

“So someone did say something to you?” Martin didn’t mean to be so pushy, but he couldn’t stand the idea of someone making Jon feel so uncomfortable being allowed to get away with it.

Jon heaved out a long sigh, and his shoulders slumped down. He scuffed one of his feet across the floor, then paused. He did it again, and Martin figured out why the small action had caught Jon’s attention. The floor had made a strange noise. Like it was hollow in that one spot. Which shouldn’t be possible since they were in the basement already.

Understanding that the conversation was on hold, at least for now, Martin and Jon both knelt down to get a better look at the ground. “I think the floor is loose here. Shine the light on it.” He reached up to grab a pen off of Gertrude’s desk, then jammed the tip into the narrow space between floorboards. After some grunts of frustration (during which Martin refrained from offering his assistance), Jon finally managed to pry the board loose.

It revealed a cramped little space that looked empty at first glance, but then Martin aimed the torch towards the sides, and caught a glimpse of something shiny. Martin reached in to pull it out, and found himself holding a plastic shopping bag. He handed it over to Jon, who quickly untied the knotted handles. “What’s in there?”

From the way Jon shrugged, it didn’t seem to be anything particularly interesting. “Just a bunch of old tapes. Seriously, who even uses tape recorders these days?”

“Do you think they might have anything about the other assistants on them?”

Jon hummed under his breath as he pulled one of the tapes out and squinted to read the label. “Hm, it says ‘someday’. Huh.” He pulled out another one to read its label. “I think these might all be personal recordings. Not sure why she’d want to hide them away in her office. But none of these sound like they’re about people vanishing and being erased from existence. And I think it would be crossing a line to listen to these when we have no idea what might be on them.” He retied the bag, and was about to drop it back into the hiding spot, but Martin reached out to stop him.

“Wait, there’s something else down there. I think it was under the bag of tapes.” He reached down again, and this time ended up pulling out a manilla envelope. It had easily blended in down there because it was so dirty and dusty. Clearly it had been under there for a long time. Martin shook it a couple of times over the hole to make sure there were no spiders clinging to it, and then he held it out to Jon while he continued to shine the torch.

Jon opened the envelope, which popped open so easily that it was obvious the glue had worn off a long time ago. He tipped the envelope upside down, and frowned at what slid out onto his waiting hand. Martin scooted closer to try and get a better look. “What…?”

Jon held up a small bundle of envelopes, all of them slightly yellowed, probably partially from age and partially from being stored in such poor conditions. Jon squinted at the address on the top envelope, and then let out a loud gasp. “Martin, what the hell am I looking at?”

Martin frowned at that reaction, and set down the torch so that he was facing directly up. He took the bundle from Jon, and then his eyes widened as he took in what Jon had already seen. There, written out in the slightly messy but all too familiar hand of a child, was the address of Jon’s grandmother’s house. And up in the corner where the return address should be was that of the house Martin had moved to as a kid. 

Martin quickly shuffled through the envelopes just to confirm what he’d already figured out. All of them were the letters Martin had sent to Jon, the letters that Jon had never received. Seventeen in total, which meant that that had to be all of the ones Martin had sent out before he’d given up. And they were just sitting in a secret hiding place in the office of one Gertrude Robinson. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn y'all that Jon was too quick to jump to conclusions


	23. Old and New

Martin reached out to take Jon’s nearest hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was really more for his own fortification than anything, though when Jon was quick to squeeze back, Martin understood that Jon needed the comfort of the touch as well. Whatever was going on, they were going to figure it out together, even if that did mean confronting the terrifying Gertrude Robinson herself.

Martin took a deep breath, then reached out to knock on the door of her office. She called out for them to come in, and Jon and Martin both gave each other a quick glance before nodding and stepping into the office. Once they were actually standing in there, Martin found his courage starting to flee him. He couldn’t imagine a single good reason for Gertrude to have those letters in her possession, and he was almost afraid to hear whatever explanation she might come up with.

But it was important to know the truth, to understand what had happened all those years ago. To know why he and Jon’s friendship had been broken apart when they were just a couple of unimportant kids who had no connection to Gertrude back then. 

Gertrude looked up from whatever paperwork she’d been in the middle of, and she raised one eyebrow when she saw the two of them standing there together. Her eyes flicked down towards their linked hands before traveling back up to their faces. “To what do I owe this honor so early in the morning?”

Last night after they’d discovered that manilla envelope of their stolen mail, they’d debated what to do about it. If they confronted Gertrude, then she’d obviously know that they had broken into her office, but if they left the envelope, then at least she wouldn’t have proof that they’d done so. But if they left the envelope then they wouldn’t have proof of her crime either.

In the end, they left the manilla envelope, but took all seventeen letters with them. Jon had taken them home to hide them somewhere safe, and also presumably to read them, since they had all been written to him in the first place. Jon hadn’t commented on the contents of any of the letters, though, and Martin couldn’t remember anything specific that he’d written about back then, so he just hoped that there was nothing too embarrassing.

The content of the letters wasn’t important at the moment, though, only where they had ultimately ended up, and how they’d gotten there. Martin jammed his free hand into his pocket and pulled out the index cards that he’d jotted some notes onto in advance, in case he found it too difficult to speak to Gertrude off the cuff.

He noticed the way that the corner of Jon’s mouth twitched up at the sight of the index cards, but it was too serious a moment for Jon to actually tease him about it. He knew he’d probably be hearing about it later, though. For now, they both had to focus on this confrontation.

Jon cleared his throat, and saved Martin from having to start the conversation. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with us. Why did you have my mail in your office? What possible reason could you have for that? To not only have those letters, but to still have them now after they went missing so many years ago?”

Martin nodded to show his support for Jon. Gertrude looked back and forth between them, then set down her pen and leaned back in her seat. She steepled her hands together, and looked at them with an unreadable expression that was nothing like the usual innocent little old lady look that she wore. “Am I allowed to ask what you were doing in my office?”

Martin glanced down at his cards before focusing back on Gertrude. “We were trying to learn something important. And I think we’re the ones who have more right to be asking questions right now. Those letters are over a decade old!”

There was a strange feeling in the air, and Martin almost expected that Gertrude would somehow vanish without a trace rather than actually bring herself to provide them with answers. But even if they worked in a place like the Magnus Institute, that didn’t mean things like that could just happen right in front of them.

Gertrude cleared her throat once, and remained seated, even though it left her at a much lower level than the two men standing in front of her (though even if she did stand up, Martin was pretty sure that he’d be the only one in the room taller than her, since Jon seemed to be about the same height as the Head Archivist). 

Gertrude looked up at Jon and Martin with sharp eyes. “I assume that you still recall your first meeting with your predecessor?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he nodded. “It was a rather memorable meeting.” Martin did recall Jon mentioning having met Michael as a kid, though he had never elaborated on the circumstances of that meeting, and now Martin was feeling quite curious. “It was so long ago… it just goes to show how much of his life he dedicated to this place. To you.”

“Yes, it does.” The silence stretched on for what felt like a small eternity before she continued. “Do you understand what it is that you encountered back then? What it is that he saved you from?”

Jon narrowed his eyes, and there was a guarded look on his face. Martin gave Jon’s hand another squeeze, and he noticed the nearly unnoticeable decrease of tension in Jon’s shoulders. “A woman,” he said slowly. 

It was a strange conversation, almost like watching a tennis match. Or maybe a chess game would be more accurate, with the way Jon and Gertrude stared at each other and spoke so carefully, neither wanting to reveal more information than they were able to receive. Martin was glad that he didn’t have to deal with Gertrude alone, because he was pretty sure that he’d never be able to win a match against her. 

The corner of Gertrude’s mouth curled up in something almost resembling a smile. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I imagine you must have been the sort of shy child who often needs help when faced with strangers.”

Whatever tension that had been eased before by Martin’s presence returned ten-fold. “Michael was also a stranger to me that day.”

“And you were a stranger to him as well. He is a man who has had many memorable encounters throughout his life, but yours is one he didn’t forget for quite a while. He told me that he had met a child, wary and intelligent, who had survived a meeting with… a woman. There are many others who have not escaped such situations, and you made for an intriguing story to talk about around the watercooler. There are many ears at the watercooler.”

Martin turned to look at Jon to see if he was even half as lost as Martin felt at the moment. Gertrude wasn’t saying anything clear or simple to understand, which was quite annoying considering why they were there. He couldn’t tell if Jon understood what Gertrude was saying, but Martin did know that he himself was running out of patience. “You still haven’t answered the question of what you’re doing with those letters.”

When Gertrude turned her sharp gaze on him, Martin almost wished that he’d just kept his mouth shut. “I can’t give you any answers that would satisfy you. Not now.”

“Why not?” Jon demanded. “Don’t you think we deserve to know the truth?”

A chuckle came from Gertrude, but it wasn’t the friendly kind of laughter that inspired joy in others. Instead it only served to send shivers down Martin’s spine. “What I think is that you are awfully greedy to know things that you aren’t yet ready for. Be careful where you step, Jon-”

“Or what?” Martin interrupted, forcing himself not to visibly gulp when Gertrude glanced at him again. “He’ll disappear like Abby and Benoit?”

The brief glance turned into a longer stare, and there seemed to be genuine confusion on Gertrude’s face. “Abby and Benoit?” she mouthed the names, as if that would help her place them, but then she shook her head lightly, and continued to stare at Martin in confusion. “Who…?”

She was a crazy old woman who had more secrets than could possibly be healthy, but Martin found that he believed the confusion she showed them. With everyone other than him having forgotten about those two assistants, he didn’t find it all that unbelievable that Gertrude would have forgotten them as well. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t provide them with further information about the missing people, but she just didn’t look the same as when she’d been talking to Jon, when it had been clear that she’d been deliberately hiding things.

Whatever had happened to the assistants, it was something that Martin and Jon would have to investigate further and figure out on their own. For now, though, they still needed to get answers about how Jon meeting Michael as a kid had anything to do with Gertrude stealing those letters and holding onto them all this time instead of just throwing them away or burning them to hide the evidence of her theft.

As eerie as her gaze was, Martin was pretty sure that Gertrude couldn’t actually read minds, and she must have gotten bored of trying to find more answers on Martin’s face. She looked at Jon again, lips almost displaying some level of amusement. “What I was going to say is to be careful where you step, Jon, because if you don’t, you’ll find yourself wearing many more handprints than you ever could have expected,” she murmured. Then she leaned over her desk again and picked her pen back up. “Now unless you have any further questions related to your work, I’d advise you to get back to it. You are getting paid to do a job here, afterall.”

It was clear that they weren’t going to be able to get anything else out of her, so Jon and Martin left her office, and the door slammed shut behind them even without anyone touching it. They walked back over to Jon’s desk, where Jon sank down into his chair while wearing a tired look on his face. “Do you think we should try to have her arrested? I’m pretty sure that stealing mail is a crime.”

Martin snorted, and looked down at Jon. His eyes were much softer than they had been throughout that entire meeting. “There’s probably a statute of limitations on taking letters from children.”

Jon shook his head. “There’s no statute of limitations in the UK, Martin.” He said it in a tone that implied it was an obvious fact. “You’ve probably been watching too many American crime dramas.”

“It’s just the one,” Martin started to defend himself. Then he heard Jon’s snicker, and he realized that he was just being teased. He relaxed despite himself, and found that he didn’t mind being teased when it was Jon doing it. Probably because Jon had no malicious intent the way that Martin’s childhood bullies had. “So you think that we should try to get her in legal trouble?”

Jon hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think there’s much point. We don’t actually have a single lick of evidence saying that she’s the one who took the letters. And to be honest, I doubt any judge would appreciate having to listen to us complain about us losing out on meaningless letters from one child to another.”

Martin frowned. “You think that they’re meaningless?”

Jon reached up to gently set his hand on Martin’s arm. “In the eyes of the law only,” he assured him. “I didn’t actually read any of them yet. I was thinking that maybe… maybe you could come over and read them to me? Afterall, they are your words, so I feel like I should probably hear them straight from the source.”

It was hard to say whether this was a distraction tactic to try and take Martin’s mind off of that failure of an interrogation, or whether Jon actually preferred to hear Martin say all those potentially embarrassing things out loud. Either way, though, Martin found himself agreeing to that, and then he shared a long hug with Jon before he reluctantly tore himself away so that he could go back to the third floor and get his own work done. Before he left, though, he made sure to whisper in Jon’s ear for him to be careful. Gertrude might usually look like a sweet old lady, but Martin had no idea what she was actually capable of, and he really didn’t want to find out.

,,,

_ Dear Jon, _

_ We’ve finally arrived at our new home. This place is weird and I don’t like it. Mum says that it will grow on me, but I don’t want it to. I want to go home to where you are so that we can keep being the same as before. It’s only been a day, but I already miss you. Please write back soon, _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I know that it probably hasn’t been long enough for you to send a reply yet, because when I asked the postman he said that sometimes mail takes a long time to get to where it's supposed to go. But I wanted to write to you again anyways, to make sure you know that I can’t wait to hear from you. This place is definitely not as fun as being at home. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I found a cute cat outside, but Mum said that we can’t keep it because it’s too much trouble to take care of a pet. I’m assuming that your grandmother doesn’t like pets either. But that’s okay. Once we’re older we can buy a house together, and we can fill it up with as many pets as we want to. I get happy just imaging such a time. _

_ Please write back soon, _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ Mum says that your letters might have gotten lost in the mail, and I really hope that that’s true. It’s been a month since I last saw you, and I’m worried. I know that Olivia and your other school friends are all cool, but please don’t forget about me. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ Today was the first day at my new school. I’m glad it’s not the middle of the school year, but even so, we are old enough that by now everyone has already formed their friendship groups years ago, and nobody wants to make room for me. I know that school was never my favorite place, but I hate it more now than I ever did before, even when Billy was there to torment me. I hope things are going better on your end in terms of school. I know that it’s not your favorite place either, but at least you have people there with you.  _

_ Anyways, I hope you write back soon. Don’t forget that you promised you would. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon,  _

_ I sat with another kid at lunch who also doesn’t have a lot of friends, but he ended up switching seats so that we were at opposite ends of an entire empty lunch table. I’ve never even talked to that kid before and he already hates me. I miss you so much, Jon. Please let me know how things are going for you. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I wrote a little poem today, and I thought that I’d send it to you. Maybe if you’re not sure what to write to me about, you could try sending a letter with some feedback on this poem? Anyways, here it goes: _

_ We stand on a field in the night, _

_ we look each other in the eyes. _

_ The only guide is the star light, _

_ which lights up a beautiful surprise. _

_ There are no words to truly say _

_ how much you mean to me. _

_ All I know is somewhere along the way _

_ I found someone with whom I could just be. _

_ The grass is wet with so much dew, _

_ soaking up into our socks and shoes, _

_ but I’d stand in this field forever with you, _

_ because you are my favorite muse. _

_ What do you think of it? It took me a little while to figure out a good rhyme for shoes, but I think it turned out pretty good. Please let me know your thoughts on this. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ It’s been two months since I moved, and I still haven’t heard from you yet. It occurred to me that maybe you don’t feel very comfortable writing letters. I understand. It can be awkward putting your thoughts down on paper where anyone might be able to see him. So I’m enclosing a card with my new house’s number on it. Feel free to call whenever you want (just know that if you call too late my mum will get grouchy with you. Please don’t take it personally).  _

_ I look forward to hearing from you soon, _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ Today in school we were split into two groups, the boys and the girls, so that we could learn about our bodies. The teacher who talked to the boys told us that all boys naturally love girls, and if they don’t there’s something wrong with them. I don’t know what possessed me, but I stood up and disagreed with him and told him that boys could marry boys and girls could marry girls if they wanted to. He ended up giving me detention. I’m just glad they didn’t call my mum to tell her what I said. _

_ I wish you were here with me. I know that you’d be brave enough to stand up against all of the teachers, no matter how many times they might threaten you with detention. But please don’t take that as an excuse to get yourself into trouble. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before we can see each other again. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ I’m pretty sure our wedding anniversary is coming up soon. I know that it’s not real, but it would still be fun to do something nice, wouldn’t it? Just let me know what you want to do to celebrate, and we’ll do it. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ Mum says that if you haven’t written back by now, you never will. But I don’t believe her. I bet in a few days it’s going to turn out that the post office made some kind of mistake, and then they’re going to deliver me a whole basket full of letters from you. I can’t wait to read them. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ The other day, one of my classmates found a fat worm outside after it rained a lot, and took it in so that the worm wouldn’t drown in the dirt. When we asked the teacher, he said that the worm is actually a caterpillar, and that it’s going to turn into a butterfly soon. I think it’s so cool that something that everyone thinks is gross is what turns into something that everyone agrees is beautiful. You wouldn’t understand, though, because you’ve always been a butterfly. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ It was my mum’s birthday today, and my aunts all came over to help me bake a cake for her. Mum was so surprised when she came home and found everyone there waiting for her, and I think that it’s the most I’ve ever seen her smile. It was such a nice day, and I hope that Mum can keep smiling forever. _

_ Martin _

_ Dearest Jonathan, _

_ I may or may not have found the bottle of whiskey that mum keeps under her bed. i meant to dump it down the drain, but I forgot, and then maybe I got a little too excited, or maybe Id ind’t forget at all, but i thought i’d try a sip and it turns out that there’s stuff is actually super nasty and I don’t know how anyone gets away with drinking theis forever. Anyways love you, you’re my favorite husband and the best one in the world even if you refuse to talk to me no matter what i say to you. Will you please just tell me what it is that I d t _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ For once, I hope that the mail system fails, and you never get whatever disaster of a letter I might have sent out yesterday. I’d explain more, but right now even the sound of my pen on the paper is way too loud for me. _

_ Martin _

_ Dear Jon, _

_ If I did something to bother you enough that you don’t want to talk to me anymore, then can’t you at least tell me that much? I won’t know what to apologize for if I don’t even know what it is that I did wrong.  _

_ Martin _

_ Jon, _

_ It’s been four months since we last saw each other, and you haven’t written to me a single time during those entire four months. My mum said she’s not going to give me money for postage anymore, and I can’t blame her for that. There’s no point in wasting money on stamps if you’re never going to bother sending anything back. _

_ I just don’t understand what’s wrong. The day I left, you promised that we’d write each other so many letters that we’d need to take out loans just to pay for all of the stamps. So why have you chosen to never write to me? _

_ I can only assume that you weren’t actually as broken up about me moving away as I thought. Maybe your other friends are good enough replacements for me now that I’m not there anymore. I thought that the many years we spent as friends was special to you as it was to me, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you only spent so much time with me because I was there.  _

_ No, I don’t truly believe that. I do think that our friendship was important to you too. I just wish I could understand why you decided not to stay in touch with me afterall. I wish that I could have told you my address and number before I even left, just so that I could feel fully secure in knowing that you have the means to contact me if you want.  _

_ Anyways, this is the last letter I’m going to send. If you read this, please know that I hope you live a long and happy life, even if you don’t want me to be a part of it. I hope that you’ll always be yourself, no matter what anyone else thinks of you.  _

_ I think bumping into you on the day we met was pure fate. You came into my life at a time when I needed a friend more than anything, and you’ve always been willing to fight my battles with me, no matter what they might be. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and all the times you’ve been there for me.  _

_ You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but I hope that I never have to see you again. If you wanted to say goodbye, then you should have just told me that on the day that I left. _

_ Have a good life, _

_ Martin Blackwood _


	24. Reciprocation

Martin glanced behind him when he heard the sound of footsteps, then did a double take when he realized that it wasn’t Jon walking into the kitchen. He paused, still holding a spatula with drippy eggs clinging to it, and stared at Georgie with wide eyes. “Er… good morning.”

Georgie looked just as surprised to see him standing in the kitchen at seven in the morning, but she quickly relaxed and switched to looking smug instead. “Did you have a pleasant little sleepover?”

Martin gulped, and wondered if there was really any correct way to answer that. “It was just- we had- I mean it was- it was a rough day at the office yesterday. Neither of us wanted to go home alone, and your flat is nicer than mine,” he mumbled.

Georgie laughed, but when Martin felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, he was somewhat relieved to see that Jon’s roommate gave him a fond look. “Alright, alright, enough with the teasing, I’m sorry. Seriously, though, I really am happy for you two. Jon might be an unbearable asshole who generally keeps his emotions on maximum security lockdown, but I know that he hasn’t had the easiest life, and I know that you make him happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile as much in the entire several years that we’ve known each other as he has since you two started dating. I’m actually really happy that you two are in each other’s lives. And while I’ll admit that I didn’t really know anything about you before I met you, other than the few things Jon mentioned after your run-in on trivia night, but it seems to me that you’re pretty happy too.”

Martin nodded immediately. “I am. Happy, I mean. With Jon. Not that I’m saying that he’s the only thing in my life making me happy, but I- I mean, I’m capable of being independent from him and everything, and I know that he doesn’t- I mean it’s not like-”

Georgie held up one hand to cut him off while she let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright, I get it. I think you guys are cute together, and as long as you both make each other happy, we can just leave it at that. I just prefer that everyone be happy if they can be.” She leaned back against the wall, posture relaxed, which helped Martin calm down a bit too. “I think your eggs might be burning, though.”

“Shit!” Martin quickly whirled around to look at the stove again, and saw that the eggs were definitely more brown than they were meant to be, and he could already foresee that they were going to stick to the bottom of the pan as well. He turned off the burner and moved the pan aside, then let out a tired sigh. “So much for a nice breakfast in bed.”

When Georgie laughed again, he turned to look at her to try and defend himself, but he lost his tension when he saw that she wasn’t laughing meanly. “It’s probably for the best, if we’re being honest here. I don’t think Jon has ever eaten anything in bed. Even when he’s sick. He hates getting any crumbs in his sheets.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped down. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I probably should have asked him first.”

“You can still make breakfast to eat out here, if you want. But only if you promise to make me some too.”

Martin nodded. “Alright, I promise. But only if you promise not to tell Jon that I just wasted a bunch of eggs.”

Georgie held out her hand, and it took Martin a moment to realize what she was doing. Then they both wore their most solemn faces as they shook hands like they were sealing some very important deal. As soon as they let go of each other’s hands, they both started giggling. Then Georgie slipped away, presumably to her own room, and Martin went to the fridge to grab some fresh eggs. He took a minute to scrape off the burnt eggs into the trash, then set the pan down on the stove to start again.

A few minutes later, Jon shuffled into the kitchen, looking adorably bleary as he yawned and reached up to rub at his eyes. He stopped abruptly in the entrance to the kitchen, and blinked a few times as he stared at where Martin was just finishing buttering the toast to tuck onto the plates with the eggs. “Good morning.”

Jon blinked a few more times, then moved closer to Martin, looking more like he was on autopilot than anything. He paused for just a moment before standing on his tip toes and pressing a light kiss to Martin’s cheek. Martin felt the blush take over his face, while Jon seemed like he wasn’t yet awake enough to feel self-conscious.

With that bit of affection out of the way, Jon walked over to the table and plopped down in his usual seat. Martin bit the inside of his cheek to hold in the grin that threatened to break out as he was given the opportunity to observe just how adorable his partner was. “Would you like some tea?” he managed to ask after he’d calmed himself down somewhat. 

Jon arched one eyebrow primly. “Of course I’d like some bloody tea, Martin. It’s not even eight in the morning yet.” He sounded grumpy, but not grouchy, and it was a distinction that would probably be lost on most people. Not on Martin, though. By this point, he was pretty adept at figuring out what most of Jon’s various tones and expressions actually meant.

Martin turned towards the counter so Jon wouldn’t see the sappy look that he was surely displaying. “I didn’t realize you were such a… non-morning person. Aren’t you the one who said that you break into the archives early every morning to get extra work done?”

“It’s not breaking in if I work there,” Jon grumbled with the tone of a man who had made that argument many times before, but never successfully so. “Anyways, I always had to set an alarm for that, and make sure to go to bed extra early. I don’t see the point in doing that anymore, though.”

Martin finished stirring the proper amount of sugar into each of their cups (which was something he could do without paying any attention after having done it so many times before), then he carried the mugs over to the table to set them down. He wasn’t sure how Georgie took her tea, so he didn’t pour any out for her. “Oh? Why not?”

Jon snorted into his tea. “Maybe it somehow managed to escape your attention, but Gertrude doesn’t exactly seem like the type of boss that I want to risk crossing. I mean, she must send me home exactly on time everyday for a reason. And now that we know she stole those letters…” he trailed off, and then suddenly jolted more upright, a bit of egg flying off the end of his fork to splat down onto the table. “Oh- I almost forgot! I wanted to show you something, after you read all your letters to me last night, but I fell asleep before I could remember. Hang on.” He pushed his chair back and went back to his room, leaving his mostly full plate and cup where they were.

Martin ate in peace for a few minutes, and didn’t say anything when Georgie appeared just to grab her breakfast and then leave again. She gave him a small nod before disappearing back to her room, and Martin just gave her a small nod in return.

It was nearly ten minutes later when Jon finally returned, carrying what looked like a cardboard shoe box that was starting to break apart at the edges. “Sorry, I couldn’t remember exactly where I put it. I just-” his face got a bit darker as he carefully shoved his plate aside so that he could put the box down on the table. “As you know, I didn’t have your address when you moved away when we were kids, but I did write you a couple of letters. More for my own sake than anything, since I knew that there was no way to send them to you. But I held onto them, and I figured… well, I got to see the ones you wrote as a kid, so this seems only fair.”

Martin’s eyes widened slightly as he peered over into the box as Jon lifted the lid. There was clearly more inside than just a few letters, but Martin was able to hold in his curiosity. If Jon wanted to tell him about the other things in the box, then he would. 

Jon rifled through the contents of the box, and then pulled out two pieces of paper that were creased along the edges and had little smudges of ink all over them. “I never even put them in envelopes. It would have been a waste. Anyways… here.” 

He held them out, but Martin didn’t reach up to take them. “I read you the letters that I wrote, so if you really want to be fair…”

Jon blinked once, then nodded. “Right, you’re right.” He held the papers closer to his face and squinted slightly at his own handwriting. Then he cleared his throat and got started. “ _ Martin, I fell today. I know that probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but the truth is that I only fell when I looked back to see if you were behind me, and I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. I’ve gotten so used to being with you that I’ve nearly forgotten how to be just me. I’m not alone- I do have other friends. But none of them could ever be you. I don’t know why you haven’t written to me yet like you promised, but I just wanted to tell you that I fell. Jon _ .” He set the letter down on the table, and cleared his throat. “So in case you couldn’t tell, I’m not exactly the best at writing letters. They’re more like streams of thought that are vaguely directed towards you.”

One corner of Martin’s mouth twitched up. He hated to picture Jon as a child, who’d already been so small and fragile looking, falling and getting upset because his best friend was gone. But he also couldn’t help feeling at least some small measure of satisfaction at the knowledge that Jon had truly missed him. He decided not to say any of that out loud, though, because none of it seemed appropriate. “That’s alright, I like hearing your thoughts.”

Jon’s face got darker again, and he let out a soft huff before focusing on the paper that he was still holding. “ _ Martin, tomorrow is my graduation. I haven’t thought about you in such a long time, but these past few weeks, you keep coming to my mind. Graduation is supposed to be a big deal, representing an official transition between childhood and adulthood. But I don’t think I’m ready for it. I’ve never really felt like a child, not the way that my friends tell me children should be, but I also don’t feel ready to be an adult for real. I already know that the world is full of many things that are both dangerous and sad, but at least when you’re a kid, there are people there who are willing to protect you. Once you’re an adult, you’re on your own, and you have to figure out how to defeat the monsters without any help. And now I can’t stop thinking about you, because you had always helped me defeat my monsters, both figurative and otherwise. Each day that gets closer to marking the official end of my school days fills me with a cold terror at the idea that I will inevitably come across a monster that is too big for me to slay on my own. I will be consumed by some hungry beast that cares nothing for who I am, or I will suffocate under the overwhelming weight of my own fears. Neither fate is one worth looking forward to. The challenges and responsibilities of growing up are looming over us, threatening to dissolve us in their shadows until there is nothing left but bones, and nobody will even care because we'll be old enough to look after ourselves. _

_ “But all of that is tomorrow. For today, I am still a child, and wherever you are, I know that you are still a child as well. For today, I will focus on the celebrations around me, and do my best not to think about what awaits me just around the corner. _

_ “When you are young, nobody warns you how frightening it is just to get older, but now I know. If I could go back and warn myself as a child, I surely would do so.  _

_ “But there’s no point in wishing for such impossible things. All I can do for now is enjoy the merry moments today, and hope that someday I will once again have someone fighting by my side. Wherever you are, whatever you’ve been through in the time since we last saw each other, I hope that you can find someone too. _ ” Then Jon set that letter down as well, and leaned back in his seat.

Martin gulped once, then reached over to gently put his hand on top of Jon’s where it was resting on the table. “Jon?” Jon looked up at him, forcing himself to make eye contact. Martin gave him a comforting smile. “So you had a bit of an emo phase, huh?”

Jon snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself, then shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose I did. I haven’t actually reread these things in so long. Now I’m embarrassed that I didn’t read them on my own before bringing them to you. You must think that- that I’m-”

“I think that you’re amazing,” Martin said honestly. “And no matter how much you deny it, I think that you might be a bit of a poet, too.”

Jon laughed again, then gently pulled his hand away so that he could put the letters back into the shoebox. “We should probably both get ready for work. Your boss might go easy on you, but I certainly don’t want to end up on Gertrude’s shit list.” 

They both retreated to Jon’s bedroom, where they quickly got changed and ready for the day (Martin had been keeping a few pieces of spare clothing in Jon’s dresser for a little while now). Then they headed to work, carefully lacing their fingers together in the space between them as Martin drove with just one hand on the wheel. 

Once he parked outside the Institute, Martin didn’t pull his hand away from Jon’s right away, and instead turned to look at his partner earnestly. He thought of what had been in Jon’s letter, and hoped that all of his feelings would come through in his next words. “Jon, I know that things are still scary, especially with us still not having figured out anything more about the missing assistants, but I hope you know that you’re not alone. I am fighting with you, I swear.”

The corners of Jon’s eyes crinkled up, which was always a truer sign of his happiness than any amount of smiling he might do with his lips. “I know, Martin. And I- I’m fighting with you too.”

Then they entered their workplace together, and reluctantly parted ways in the lobby so that they could head to their respective office spaces. Even with the mystery that was still hanging over them, Martin couldn’t help but to feel unbearably happy. 


	25. Bad Parenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for martin's mom using homophobic slurs

Martin knew that he had to be squeezing Jon’s hand uncomfortably tightly as they moved down the colorful hallways, but Jon didn’t make a single noise of complaint, and Martin found it too difficult to let go. At least until they reached their destination, where Martin dropped Jon’s hand as if he had burned him. But a quick glance at Jon’s face was all it took to see that Jon was only wearing patient understanding, with anger nowhere to be found.

He took comfort in knowing that he wasn’t here alone, and then reached up to knock on the open door frame to the room. Then he poked his head into the room, and relaxed at least a little bit when he saw his mother already sitting up in her bed. He’d had to have to deal with the fallout if he had accidentally woken her in the middle of a nap.

Martin stepped further into the room, and Jon quietly followed his lead, offering his presence without trying to take over the situation. Martin cleared his throat. “Hey, Mum, it’s been a while since I last saw you.”

She looked up from the crossword puzzle she’d been in the middle of solving, and frowned as soon as she spotted Martin. “And whose fault do you think it is that I have such a disappointment of a son that he can’t even be bothered to visit me in this awful place?”

Martin blinked once, and then clasped his hands together in front of him, trying not to fidget too much because he knew how much it tended to annoy his mother. “Do you… does that mean you want me- want me to visit more often?”

He couldn’t keep the hopefulness out of his voice, but perhaps he should have tried harder to, because his mother just scoffed as if she’d heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Of course I don’t want you visiting more often. What the hell kind of use could a child like you ever possibly do for me? Why are you even here right now?”

Martin clenched his hands into fists, and took a few deep breaths. “I’m aware that you never approved of my being gay, but-”

“As if anyone could approve of such a disgusting thing!”  
Martin hurried on, trying to pretend like his mother hadn’t interrupted to say anything at all. “But I thought that you might be interested in meeting- meeting the person that I love. This is Jon, and our one year anniversary is coming up soon, so I can confidently tell you that what’s between us is something serious.”

His mother twisted up her features, looking like she’d just eaten something sour, or perhaps smelled something rancid. “You thought that I’d want to have anything to do with the other fags you associate with?” She gave Jon a scrutinizing look, and Jon just stood there calmly, keeping his back straight and his face blank. “Hmph. As if I’d ever believe that someone who looks like he’s got his life together would want anything to do with you. Even if you were a normal man, I wouldn’t believe that anyone could ever want to be with you. So what’s the deal? You paying him or something?”   


Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “We work in the same place, Mrs. Blackwood, and to be quite honest, even if I was a sex worker, there would be no shame in such a thing. Either way, I would still be with your son because he is wonderful and I love him.” He spoke so stiffly, in that haughty tone of his that often made people think he was looking down on them, though in this case he seemed to be intentionally playing it up. “Martin is kind, and caring, and beautiful, and smart, and he has a trunk full of stuff to be ready for anything. I could stand here all day reading off a list of his virtues, and it still wouldn’t even come close to describing how amazing he is.”

Though his mother’s face grew darker and darker the longer Jon spoke, Martin found himself incapable of interrupting. He also knew that his face had to be very bright red after hearing all of those compliments. Of course he knew that Jon cared about him, but there was something different about hearing it all out loud instead of just seeing it through actions. 

Martin’s mother let out a loud noise of irritation. “Now I definitely can’t believe that any of this is real. No way that failure over there would ever be able to get with someone so devoted to him. Whatever he offered to get you to come here and scold me, as if you have any right, I hope it was worth it.”

Somehow Jon managed to straighten his back even more, to the point where his body was so tense that it looked like it might snap in half if anyone were to touch him. “Mrs. Blackwood, what Martin offered me is his heart, and it is more worth it than you’ll ever know, because you refuse to accept such a gift for yourself. And for your information, this entire meeting was just a formality, as me and Martin are already married.” Then he reached out to thread his fingers through Martin’s, and Martin didn’t try to pull away.

Both men stared at Martin’s mother, who sputtered for a few seconds before she could speak coherently. “Both of you make me sick. You’re disgusting, perverted people who have strayed so far from God’s light that you have no chance of ever making it back.” As she stared at Jon for a few more seconds, her eyes suddenly widened in realization. “What a minute- I know you! You’re the boy who was always hanging around my apartment, being annoying and noisy and a nuisance, right?”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand a little tighter. “Mum, he was always inv-”

She bowled over him, clearly not at all caring about what he might have to say. “So this is all your fault, then! You polluted that child of mine and turned him into a sinner like you. You’re both going to rot in hell someday.”

Jon offered Martin’s mother his blandest, most polite, smile, and somehow it was one of the most intimidating expressions that Martin had ever seen on Jon’s face. “If hell is where all the gays are going to be, then it sounds like it’ll be quite the party compared to wherever it is that you think you’re going to end up.” Then he dipped his head down in a shallow nod, in a mocking show of respect. He kept talking before Martin’s mother had the chance to interject. “Mrs. Blackwood, I am so terribly sorry to have bothered you on such a lovely afternoon. If you don’t mind, Martin and I are going to head out now, so that we can enjoy our day somewhere far, far away from you.” 

He glanced at Martin, and Martin gave him a tiny nod, and then the two of them left the room without waiting for any kind of response from Martin’s mother. Once they were out in the parking lot, Martin gently pulled his hand away from Jon’s. “Jon, that was…”

Jon bowed his head, and stared intently at the asphalt beneath them. “I’m sorry, I know that I had no right to talk to your mother like that. I just- I just couldn’t stand the idea of her talking about you like that.”

Martin blinked once, then smiled. “I’m not mad, I promise. I guess I’m mostly just- confused. That sounds like the kind of thing that’s been building up for a while. Did you ever…” He trailed off as he thought about the few times he had encountered Jon’s grandmother when they were younger. Though Jon’s grandmother never spoke the way Martin’s mother did, at least not as far as he was aware, he knew that that woman had been far from the ideal guardian for Jon. “Did you ever talk to your grandmother like that?”

Jon let out a startled laugh. “Are you joking? She would have slapped me into next Sunday if I ever tried.” He shuddered with obvious exaggeration, and then settled down and smiled gently at Martin. “Are you alright?”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think that I am, actually. I’m actually pretty okay with all the things you said in there. Jon, I’m pretty sure that- that you’re the only one who’s ever really stood up for me. Back when we were kids, and now. And I just- thank you, for that. The only thing I didn't get was the part about us being- being married.”

Jon’s cheeks got darker, and he avoided eye contact again. “Well we are, aren’t we? I mean, according to Georgie, since we never got a divorce, it’s all legally binding.” He let out one of those awkward little laughs that never failed to make Martin’s heart beat faster.

The conversation seemed to end there, and they went back to Jon’s flat together. Once they were inside and sitting on the couch, though, cuddled up against each other, Martin couldn’t help asking, “Have you ever thought about doing it for real?” When Jon raised one eyebrow, Martin elaborated. “Get married, I mean.” When Jon didn’t respond right away, Martin sat up straight and quickly tried to backtrack. “I mean- I didn’t mean to  _ me _ or right now, or anything, I just meant like- like in a general sense!”

A few seconds passed by, and then Jon shrugged one shoulder and answered, all while staring at Martin with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ve never really given it much thought, to be honest. I suppose it was never relevant, since I figured I’d never meet anyone worth getting married to.”

“Oh.” Martin’s chin drooped slightly, and then he looked down at his lap. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Jon stared at him, then eventually reached out to hold one of Martin’s hands. “Marriage is a big commitment, and I don’t know if it’s the kind of thing that I’ll ever be ready for. I haven’t really had many great examples of it working out. What I do know is that I like- I like being here with you. We’re together right now, and that’s what matters most.” His cheeks had gotten quite dark as he spoke, but he sounded confident in his words, so Martin believed him. 

They shifted into more comfortable cuddling positions, which ended up being Martin leaning back against one of the arm rests while Jon practically laid on top of him, and they both turned their heads to look at the TV. Martin couldn’t even remember what they’d been watching, but he didn’t care. It was nice just to spend this time together.

,,,

Martin was busy staring at his phone while he waited for the kettle water to boil. He was in the middle of a pretty entertaining text conversation with Georgie and Jon, and when Jon wrote that it was unfair for the other two to gang up on him, Martin couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little chuckle.

He only looked up when he heard Sasha’s amused voice. “What’s so funny?”

Tim’s voice chipped in as well, because apparently the two best friends were incapable of ever going to the break room alone. “You’ve got to tell us now, or else we might just drop dead. You owe us, anyways. It seems like you never spend time with us anymore.” He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted in the most ridiculous way that a grown man was capable of.

Sasha jabbed her elbow into Tim’s gut, then gave Martin an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to him, we know that you don’t owe us anything. And Tim is also very well aware of the fact that you haven’t neglected us at all. But if you do want to tell us what’s so funny…”

Martin rolled his eyes at the antics of his coworkers. “Just some random stuff with Jon and his flatmate.”

The kettle chose that moment to start whistling, and Martin happily poured hot water into his mug, then reached into the cabinet to grab Tim and Sasha’s usual mugs so that he could pour some out for them as well. “Any interesting cases today?”

Sasha shook her head, but Tim started grumbling. “Yeah, the case of who stole my favorite mug.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows as he set the kettle down. “You just saw me grab it.”

Tim shook his head. “That isn’t it. Look, I know how this sounds, but even though that looks just like the right one, that mug isn’t mine.”

“If they look the same, how could you tell the difference?” Sasha asked in a light voice.

Tim gestured for Martin and Sasha to both lean in closer to him, and then he made a show of looking around to make sure that no one else was close enough to listen in on what he was about to say. “Because one time I accidentally dropped it when my tea was too hot and I didn’t realize it, and when the mug fell the handle broke right off, so I had to glue it back on myself. It’s a little thing that you’d only notice if you were looking for it, but the mug that you just made tea in definitely did not have to have its handle reattached.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and shoved at Tim. “Stop messing around.”

“What? I’m serious!” Tim insisted, though from his tone, Martin honestly couldn’t tell whether he was joking around or not.

All Martin knew was that when he peered closely at it, there was definitely nothing wrong with Tim’s mug. Well, that wasn’t all he knew. He also knew that a bunch of other mugs had been disappearing and reappearing lately, but he never heard anyone complain about their mug not being there when they needed it. “Why would someone go through all the effort of stealing your mug and replacing it with an identical one?” Martin mumbled.

His mumbling was loud enough for his friends to hear it, though, and they both turned to look at him. Tim just shrugged. “If I knew the answer to that, then it wouldn’t be much of a mystery, would it?” Then he reached past Martin to grab his mug. “Anyways, thanks for making the tea. You always make it the best!” Then Sasha grabbed her tea and thanked Martin as well, and then the two headed back to their own desks.

Martin just stared at his own mug, and suddenly wondered if it was possible that it had been replaced. There was no real way to tell, because he’d never done any small damage to it. But there was a different one he could check. Before he could talk himself out of it, Martin reached into the cabinet and pulled out Jon’s mug. Martin had been trying to convince him to replace it for ages now, due to the little chip right on the rim on the side that Jon generally drank from. Martin insisted that it would end up cutting Jon’s lip at some point, because of its position, but Jon always waved the concern aside. Martin hadn’t really thought about it in a while, though, because Jon never complained about it causing him pain.

The chip was still there, but… out of curiosity, Martin raised the empty mug up to his own mouth, and mimed taking a sip from it. When he did, he found that the chipped spot was located in such a way that it barely brushed the corner of his lip. Which was quite odd indeed, because Martin distinctly remembered that the only reason he’d been worried about the damage in the first place was because the chip had been right in the center of the lip of whoever drank from the mug. 


	26. Workplace Harassment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual, because my hands just refused to stop typing lol

As they walked down the street, linked at the elbows, Martin cleared his throat and broke the comfortable silence that had been going on between them for the past several minutes. “Jon? You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but… what happened to your grandmother?”

Jon paused mid-step for just a moment before continuing on at the same pace as before. “I suppose I really should talk about it. It’s been long enough by now.”

“Only if you want to,” Martin said firmly.

They got to the end of the block and turned the corner before Jon started talking, voice soft so that even if other pedestrians passed by, they wouldn’t hear much. Though the street was pretty empty, so the odds of there being any eavesdroppers around seemed pretty low. “I suppose she just died of old age,” Jon said in a voice that didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Martin tilted his head. “You suppose?” If there was one thing about Jon that seemed to be a constant at any age, it was his insatiable curiosity about everything. Maybe it was too morbid for even Jon, but Martin would have thought that Jon would know the exact cause of his grandmother’s death.

With Martin having asked that, Jon furrowed his eyebrows and looked confused. “I- I never really gave it much thought before.” Saying it out loud seemed to make him realize for the first time just how odd that was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then started talking again, clearly wanting to go over the details for himself as much as Martin. “I was surprised when she showed up that day, just a couple of weeks after I’d moved in with Georgie. It seems like the older I got, the less she wanted anything to do with me. She was just a tired old woman who didn’t understand certain parts of me. I know she cared about me, but she hated any reminders that I’m queer, so that left things more than a bit strained between us.

“But that day she was banging on the front door like it was the most urgent thing in the world that I let her in. Georgie made her excuses to head out so that I could talk with my grandmother alone, and we sat down in the kitchen. I offered to make her tea, but she refused, said there wasn’t enough time for that. 

“Now that I think about it, I remember thinking at the time that it was quite odd how she kept her voice so normal and composed even while the rest of her seemed on the verge of panicking.

“I asked her what was wrong, what could be so important that it couldn’t just be said over a phone call, and it was difficult to get a straight answer out of her because she kept rambling. And I don’t know how much you remember about my grandmother, but she certainly never rambled. Even though she didn’t want any tea, I thought that a glass of water might help, but as soon as I turned my back I heard her hit the floor, and then she was just- well. I called for an ambulance and sat with her, holding her hand while I waited, but- but she was gone by the time they arrived.”

There was an expression of extreme concentration on Jon’s face, like it was very difficult to summon up the memories of that day. He continued on after another few seconds. “When the hospital gave me everything they had on her, it was pretty much as expected. Clothes, a few small pieces of jewelry- though no wedding ring- some cigarettes with no lighter, and a business card for the Magnus Institute. I told you before that I went for the first available job I qualified for, and that’s true. I had enough money saved up that I didn’t have to find a job the second I moved to London, so I just spent those first few weeks looking. After my grandmother died, it took me a few weeks to work up my courage to go to the Institute to see if anyone there knew my grandmother. I didn’t expect for Gertrude to tell me about a job opening that I should apply for. Is it strange that I haven’t thought about any of that since it happened?”

Martin shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not an expert in dealing with grief. I doubt that there are any normal ways of doing it.” Martin hadn’t even realized that they’d stopped walking while Jon told his story, and he gently directed them to keep moving forward. “So you never asked about her cause of death?”

“It seemed pretty obvious. She was a very old woman and she was clearly acting delirious in her final moments so I guess I just…” he trailed off, then shrugged as he turned his face away from Martin, though it wasn’t soon enough to hide the helpless look. Martin didn’t really know what to say, so he just pressed himself closer to Jon so that there was no space at all between their shoulders. “Martin…” Jon took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. “My grandmother led me to the Institute whether she meant to or not, and despite the fact that the odds seem quite low, it meant that we both ended up in the same place. Then there’s my predecessor Michael who supposedly quit without telling anyone only to contact me much later and then stand me up, not to mention that I met him once when he saved my life when I was a child, two other missing assistants that only you can remember, Gertrude herself telling me to apply as her assistant, whatever is going on with the mugs, Gertrude having in her possession the letters you wrote me when we were kids, and-” he seemed to suddenly run out of steam, and his shoulders slumped down. “Martin, I’m well aware of what the Institute researches, but I’m worried that perhaps… that maybe something from one of those statements is real, and is out to get us. Or, well, out to get- to get me.” He gulped, then glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye. “Do I sound like a paranoid idiot?”

Martin quickly shook his head. “Given everything that’s happened, it does seem like a reasonable thing to conclude.” Somehow, even as everything had stacked up around them, it hadn’t really occurred to Martin just how much of it pointed directly at Jon. Martin may have written those letters and been offered the archival assistant position first, but there did seem to be far more weirdness connected to Jon than to himself. And now that it had been pointed out to him, he couldn’t help but worry. “I- I won’t let anything happen to you, Jon,” he promised in a quiet, but sure, tone.

A few seconds passed, and then Jon sighed. “Thank you, Martin. I do appreciate the sentiment. But- but I can’t help thinking that maybe this is a mystery that isn’t worth solving. Whatever’s going on either involves me because of my past experiences, or…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but the implication of what he was about to say made Martin shiver. Either something had chosen to involve Jon because of his past experiences, or something had chosen to involve Jon much longer ago than that, and was the cause of all those experiences.

,,,

Martin tried to wipe his sweating palms off on the sides of his pants before he raised one hand to knock on the door in front of him. Before his knuckles even hit the wood, he heard a voice call out, “Come in, Mr. Blackwood.”

Too busy being nervous to wonder how Mr. Bouchard had known he was there, Martin opened the door and stepped into the office. This man was the head of the entire Institute, and therefore there had never been any reason for them to interact before. When Martin had gotten to work to find an email waiting for him to summon him up, he’d been quite understandably confused about it.

He cleared his throat softly, then made his way closer to the desk. He didn’t take much time to actually look at the room around him, though he did see enough to decide that it was more than a bit too ostentatious for his tastes. “Mr. Bouchard? You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, yes, Martin, please, do come in.” It was a strange thing to say to someone already standing in the middle of the office, but Martin just nodded. “And please, call me Elias.”

It was surprising, since what little Martin knew of Elias made him out to be the sort who would want everyone to follow tradition, and therefore only refer to each other with all due respect. But Martin wasn’t going to argue with the man who was his boss’s boss’s boss, so he just nodded again. “What did you need to see me about? Have I done something wrong?”

Elias was quick to shake his head, and he gestured for Martin to take a seat in the chair across from his desk. “Oh no, nothing like that. From what Crystal’s told me, you’ve been a model employee so far. You could just say that this little meeting was organized so that I could sate my curiosity. You’re the one who turned down the position of archival assistant, are you not? If I may say so, I am rather surprised that anyone would turn down a fairly significant raise.”

There wasn’t really a question in there, and Martin got the weird feeling that Elias could figure out the answers on his own anyways, but after several seconds passed by in silence, Martin felt the need to fill the empty space between them with words. “I like my current position. And besides, it all worked out for the best, didn’t it? I mean, from what I’ve seen and heard, Jon is an excellent addition to the archives team.”

Elias arched one eyebrow. “Team?” he repeated, sounding almost amused and smug. “After her previous assistant left, Gertrude was the only one down there. Though I suppose you could consider her a team of one.”

Martin did his best not to frown outright at the man in front of him, though he couldn’t deny that the longer he sat there, the more his gut told him that he should try to leave as quickly as possible. “Well if I’m not here about my job performance, sir, why am I here?” He felt his face flush bright red just from the boldness of that simple question.

Elias leaned back in his seat and gave Martin a long, assessing look. Martin couldn’t help shifting around in his seat, trying- and failing- to not squirm under the older man’s piercing gaze. When Elias finally opened his mouth to speak, it felt like such a relief. “I’ve heard that you and Mr. Sims are in a serious, committed relationship.”

It still wasn’t a question, but since Elias didn’t say anything else, Martin felt like he had to talk. “There’s- there’s no rule against dating coworkers here.” He knew that he sounded too defensive, but didn’t know how to fix it. But he also knew that he was right, because Sasha definitely would have warned him to at least be careful if she knew that he was getting into a situation that might get Martin in trouble.

To Martin’s surprise, Elias just let out a friendly chuckle as he shook his head. “I would never dream of putting rules into place that would interfere with young love.” Then he tilted his head to the side as he continued to stare at Martin. “I’ve heard that the two of you were childhood friends. Strange, since you look so much younger than he does.” 

Martin didn’t say anything in response to that. He didn’t really understand why, but he knew that Jon preferred to tell everyone that he was about a decade older than he actually was. As if there was some kind of shame in being in his mid-twenties even though everyone had to go through that age. Though Jon’s hair and general air of stress did certainly help sell his go to lie.

Martin frowned as he looked at Elias, and tried not to sound too rude. “Sir, I do still have work to do for the day. Could you just- I mean- why did you ask me here?”

Under Elias’ intense staring, Martin had to resist the urge to just get up and run away. “I apologize, I suppose I must seem rather nosey right now. The truth is, the reason I’ve called you up here is because I was hoping that you would be able to talk to Mr. Sims for me. I believe that he finds me intimidating, while you are obviously someone who he trusts.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “What… what did you want me to talk to him about?”

“I found this on the floor outside my office yesterday morning. Of course, since it was torn up I would have just dismissed it as unimportant, but when Mr. Sims didn’t show up for work yesterday or today, I began to take it more seriously.” He slid a paper across his desk to Martin. It had a layer of clear tape going around it to keep the four pieces together.

As Martin skimmed over the paper, he found his eyebrows rising up without him meaning for them to. It was very clearly a letter of resignation signed by Jon. And while Martin could understand the reasons behind it, he hadn’t realized that Jon had decided to actually quit his job. “I do think Jon is brilliant at his job,” Martin said slowly, keeping his eyes on the paper if only so he didn’t have to look up at Elias just yet. “But if he wants to leave, then surely that should be his choice?”

Elias sighed. “Yes, of course. However, I’m afraid that he might be leaving for the wrong reasons.”

That got Martin to look up at Elias sharply. “What do you mean?”

The older man sighed as he continued to stare at Martin in that unnerving way. “I believe that it is all merely a misunderstanding, but I have not had the chance to speak with him about it. I hadn’t expected him to go so far as to quit. I believe it was a few months ago at this point that I had to run down to the archives for some matter or another. While I was down there, I got into a conversation with Mr. Sims, where I politely reminded him of the dress code that Institute employees are expected to follow. I’m afraid that he must have misinterpreted my tone, and has been biding his time until now to quit. But as you said, he is good at his job, and it would be a shame for him to leave us so soon, so if you could just speak with him and-”

Even though all his instincts told him not to do it, Martin found himself speaking up and interrupting Elias in the middle of a sentence. “You’re the one who told Jon not to wear his skirts and stuff?” Martin thought of how distraught Jon had been when Martin had asked about it, and based on that reaction, he immediately knew that Elias had certainly not been polite or respectful at all. “I see other employees here wearing skirts all the time!”  
Elias sighed, and gave Martin the look of a condescending parent talking down to their child. “Martin, the Magnus Institute is a serious and respected, and every employee, whether they are hidden away in the basement or not, must do everything in their power to positively represent their place of work. You must take pride in your career, or else you may as well be flipping burgers somewhere. Believe me, I can appreciate Mr. Sim’s… unique style, while also asking that he only dress in a way that is appropriate.”

If this was a meeting where Martin’s abilities or fashion or whatever was being called into question, he’d be hurt, but he wouldn’t say anything about it. But this was Jon that they were talking about. Jon who had been his best (and only friend) from as far back as he could remember, who had wanted to marry him even when Martin had nothing to offer, who had stood up to Martin’s mom for him, and who looked beautiful when he wore what he wanted.

So even though it took pretty much every drop of courage he had in him, Martin balled his hands into fists and abruptly stood up, towering over the still seated Elias. “There is nothing inappropriate at all about the way Jon dresses. And if he wants to quit this place- for any reason- then I’m not going to do a single thing to try and change his mind about it.” Then he turned and walked out of the office, still tightly clutching the patched together letter of resignation.

Martin’s anger burned through him enough to power him all the way to Jon’s flat. He ignored the buzzing he could feel from the phone in his pocket, since he figured that it was probably just Sasha and/or Tim wondering where he was, and he didn’t want to talk to them about any of this until he’d gotten the chance to talk to Jon about it first.

By the time he’d reached Jon’s flat, Martin had calmed down enough that he was able to gently knock on the door, and it swung open pretty quickly. Georgie raised one eyebrow when she saw Martin standing there. “Shouldn’t you be at work or something?”

“I need to talk to Jon,” Martin said instead of answering the simple question.

There was a pause as Georgie tried to read his face, but then she just gave up and stepped aside so that Martin could enter the apartment. “He’s in his room with the Admiral.”

Martin gave her a brief nod of thanks, then headed to Jon’s room. The door was already part way open, so when Martin knocked it pushed it open further. Jon looked up from where he was lying on his bed, the Admiral resting comfortably on his stomach. “Martin? What are you doing here?”   


Martin hesitated before walking further into the room. He sank down onto the edge of the bed and stared at the wall instead of looking down at Jon. “Elias said you quit.”

Jon carefully sat up, but apparently even his cautious movements were enough to send the Admiral fleeing. Jon sighed and muttered, “Traitor,” before shifting so that he was sitting next to Martin with their arms and thighs touching. “I wanted to quit,” he admitted in a soft voice. 

“Because of what Elias said about your work attire?”

Jon’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you-?”   


Martin scowled, and looked down at his lap. “He told me about it himself. I- I may have said something to him about it. Not even anything too bad, just that he’s wrong. You do know that he’s wrong, right? You can wear whatever you want.”

Jon’s eyes softened, and he reached out to rest his hand on top of Martin’s. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble. But I think that- I think that I will go back to dressing how I want. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that there’s anything Elias could do about it. What’s he going to do, fire me before I can quit?”

They both laughed softly, but then Martin asked, “So is that it, then? You were going to quit because of him?”

Jon hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I just figured, well. Maybe you’ll think I’m a coward for this, but I figured that if there’s really something so wrong with that place, then maybe it would be best to just leave.”

“That wouldn’t make you a coward,” Martin insisted. “That would be smart, actually. So you’re going to look for a new job now?”

Jon shook his head again. “No. Like I said, I wanted to quit, but I couldn’t. Martin, I- I physically couldn’t quit. I wrote out that letter, but I had a terrible headache the entire time, and it felt like my feet were made of lead when I went to bring it to him, and then, before I could even knock on the door, I found myself tearing it up without even consciously deciding to do so. I thought that maybe I could just stop going in, but I’ve felt a bit ill since I made that decision. I think I just- I think I just have to keep going to work. And once I reached that conclusion, I stopped feeling sick.”

Martin could feel his heart thumping in his chest faster than normal. Whatever theories they might have tossed around before about Jon being specifically targeted suddenly seemed so much worse. “You… how… I mean- what could be stopping you from quitting?”

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, I suppose that I really have no choice but to try and figure it out.” He hesitated again, and then spoke in a low voice that Martin had to lean closer to him to hear. “Martin, you should quit and get away from the Institute as fast as you can. It’s a bad place to be.”

Martin shook his head immediately. “No way. I’m staying until you can leave too. I’m not leaving you to figure it all out on your own. You don’t have to do everything on your own, Jon. I’m here for you.”

There was a pause, and then Martin felt Jon’s head tilt to rest against Martin’s shoulder. “You’re my favorite person,” Jon said quietly. “Thanks for being here.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Martin quietly insisted. “I want to be here.” Then they sat there together until Martin’s ringing phone could no longer be ignored, and he eventually had to return to work. Jon promised that he’d go back tomorrow, and then they’d be able to discuss their strategy then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, I hate Elias and I would not hesitate to punch him in the face


	27. Watching the Clouds Go By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late, I got caught up rewatching gravity falls yesterday xD

Tim leaned over Martin’s desk in a way that was just intrusive enough that Martin could no longer focus on his work. He forced himself to look up at Tim with a bland, neutral expression on his face. “Can I help you with something?”

The look of glee on Tim’s face definitely didn’t bode well for Martin, but even after all this time, he still wasn’t nearly as experienced as Sasha was when it came to cutting Tim off before he could cause any real damage. “So… I heard some interesting things about your boyfriend.”

Martin arched one eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like that he tried to quit but that you convinced him not to.”

Martin’s other eyebrow shot up so that both of them were equally raised up. “What? Where did you hear that?”

Something about Martin’s reaction had clearly piqued Tim’s interest, because he somehow managed to lean even closer to Martin. “I was just chatting with Rosie in the breakroom. You know, the third floor receptionist?”

“You mean Elias’ receptionist?”   


Tim shrugged. “I suppose it is all the same thing. Of course there are a lot of other offices up there, but I’ve never actually seen any other executives around.” Then he quickly shook his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is that that’s what she told me. So, is it true? Did Sims want to ditch this place?”

There was a strange gleam in Tim’s eyes that Martin didn’t recognize. It didn’t make him feel uneasy necessarily, since he trusted and was friends with Tim, but it did serve as a pretty decent reminder that for all that Tim talked, he didn’t seem to actually talk much about himself or his background. 

Martin took a few seconds to carefully think about how to respond. “It’s true that he gave it a moment of consideration, but in the end, he couldn’t leave here.” There, it was an honest statement, and nobody would assume that there was any nefarious force gluing Jon to his job. “Why are you so interested?”

As soon as he asked that, the gleam in Tim’s eyes disappeared, and he was back to looking like his usual care-free self. “Oh, no real reason. I was just curious about what might have driven the esteemed Mr. Sims away.”

Instead of answering that, since any honest answer would probably make both Martin and Jon sound like crazy people (sure, everyone here supposedly believed in the supernatural, but he’d seen the looks on peoples’ faces as they investigated various statements), Martin just let out a soft, “Hm.” 

Tim took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out as he moved away from Martin’s desk enough to let Martin breathe properly again. “So how have you been lately? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“We just went to have lunch together yesterday,” Martin pointed out in bemusement.

Tim waved that aside. “Yes, but you know what I mean!” Martin really didn’t, but he figured it was best to just nod along. “We should have a guys’ night out!”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “Does the pub not count?”

“Oh, I hadn’t really considered that. But let’s say that no, it doesn’t count. So, what do you say? You, me, and your man, all hang out and get to know each other better.”

Even before Tim had finished speaking, Martin could already practically hear Jon’s voice in his head saying, ‘I know him as well as I’d ever like to, thank you very much’. Tim didn’t seem to notice the dubious look on Martin’s face as he continued to ramble on about all the stuff they could do together on this guys’ night. 

Luckily, Martin was saved when Sasha came to the rescue, easily butting into the conversation and cutting Tim off. “Did you have too much caffeine today or something? Why are you over here annoying Martin instead of at your desk doing your work?”

Tim pouted at her, but Sasha was somehow immune to the look that often found Tim getting his way. “Aw, but annoying Martin is so much more fun than doing boring old work.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “It’s a miracle that you’re considered an adult. Or maybe it’s just a clerical error.” Then she grabbed Tim by the elbow and pulled him away. Martin watched them go, until eventually they must have reached their desks because they disappeared behind one of the many cheap cubicle walls that filled the room.

Once they were out of sight, Martin let out a soft sigh before bending his neck down and returning his focus to his work. He did his best to forget about whatever strangeness had been in Tim’s eyes, because Martin already knew that he only had the mental energy for so many mysteries, and right now, Jon’s problems had to take priority.

,,,

Jon and Martin both gently kicked their legs back and forth as they sat on the edge of the pier, letting their bare feet gently skim the surface of the water below them. Jon tipped his head back to look up at the clouds. Martin could see the way Jon was staring off into the distance without really seeing anything. Even though he understood why Jon would be so distracted lately, that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to come up with at least temporary distractions from their problems. “What do you think the clouds look like?”

Jon frowned as he looked at Martin out of the corner of his eye, and then back up at the sky. “Water vapor.”

Martin rolled his eyes as he gently nudged his shoulder against Jon’s. “Come on, I know that you’ve got a pretty good imagination when you put your mind to it. Like that one, for instance. There are a few pretty obvious things that you might think it resembles. And please don’t say ‘cloud’ as one of them.”

With the way Jon squinted and reached up to press one hand against his eyebrows to protect his eyes from the sun, it was difficult to say whether he was taking the assignment seriously or not. After a few long seconds of staring at the cloud that Martin had pointed out, Jon finally dropped his arm and turned to look at Martin with a small smile on his face. “You gave me an easy one. That’s definitely a cow.”

Martin immediately looked back up at the cloud to see if it had changed in the past few seconds, but it definitely hadn’t. “How the heck do you see a cow up there? That’s definitely a castle. Or maybe an administrative building at best.”

Jon stubbornly shook his head as he pointed up towards various sticking-out bits of the cloud. “There’s the head, and two legs, because it’s a side view, and a little tail. And that spot there is a little white patch on its belly. Oh, and there are the udders. Definitely a cow.”

It took a moment longer than it should have for Martin to realize that Jon was teasing him, and then he let out an exaggerated sigh before sitting upright again. “You’re so annoying,” he said with as much fondness in his voice as he could possibly fit. They sat there for a while longer, just their pinky fingers touching where their hands were pressed flat against the pier. It was a beautiful moment, and Martin hated to ruin it, but he felt like he had to. “Jon? How long do you really think we can hold off on solving the mysteries of the Institute?”

Jon gulped, and his face tightened minisculely, though it was something Martin only noticed because he was looking so closely. “I’d put it off forever if I thought I could get away with,” Jon admitted in a falsely light tone. “I really, really want it to turn out that I’m just being paranoid.” 

There was nothing Martin could really say to that, because they were both pretty sure that this was far beyond a situation of paranoia. So they just continued to sit there and stare at the setting sun, and Martin was pretty sure that Jon felt the same way he did, wishing that they could stay in that moment forever.

,,,

There was a bad feeling in Martin’s gut when he opened the cabinet in the break room. Well, first there was a loud shattering sound that startled Martin pretty badly, but it was quickly followed by the bad feeling. 

The cause of the shattering was the fact that the cupboard was stuffed full of so many mugs that as soon as Martin had pulled the door open, several of them had fallen onto the counter and floor. Of the ones that fell, most of them bounced or chipped, but one of them must have hit the floor at just the wrong angle because it completely broke into hundreds of little pieces. 

Martin stared at the mess and tried to figure out what any of this meant. What did mugs have to do with anything else that was going on around here? And why did Martin have to be the one to discover the excess mugs? 

After looking at the disaster for a few minutes longer than necessary, Martin finally pulled his phone out to take a few pictures to document the overstuffed cupboard as well as the broken mug, then he quickly went to grab the broom and dustpan from the closet. 

While he was doing that, he heard footsteps as someone else walked into the room. The shattered mug was in a pretty obvious and visible place, but Martin still felt the need to call out, “Watch where you step! There’s broken glass by the counter.”

“Oh my. I didn’t realize my employees were so dissatisfied with their jobs that they’ve started throwing mugs at the walls.”

At the sound of that voice, Martin quickly stepped out of the closet with only the broom in hand, since he hadn’t been able to find the dustpan yet. “Elias?” He had never seen the head of the Institute anywhere in this building besides his office, and it gave Martin a weird feeling to see that Elias had showed up here and now of all times.

Elias looked over at Martin, and didn’t seem at all surprised to see him there, though Martin had already spoken before exiting the closet, so maybe that was why. “Ah, Mr. Blackwood, making a bit of a mess around here I see?”

Martin clenched his fingers tightly around the broom handle. “Sorry, sir. It was just a bit of a, erm, an office prank gone wrong.”

Elias glanced over at the still open cupboard, which was still clearly filled to the brim with far more mugs than it was ever meant to hold. Far more mugs than there were even employees for in the entire Institute, let alone on this floor. “I see,” he said in a voice that implied he saw a lot more than either of them were willing to voice out loud. Then he turned to give Martin a quick once over. “I apologize for the timing. It is a coincidence to run into you here, though. I was just looking to speak with you.”

Martin was pretty sure that there was nothing Elias could say that Martin would want to listen to, but this man was in charge of his employment, so Martin had to act civil even if Elias was a dick. “What- what can I do for you?”

Elias strolled over to Martin, carefully stepping around the fallen glass without glancing down at the floor even once. “The last time that you spoke with Jonathan Sims turned out very successfully, as he was convinced to return to work like usual. Since he is willing to listen to you, I was hoping that you could speak with him for me again.”

It’s not as though Jon had had any choice about returning to work, but Martin didn’t say anything about that. “What did you want me to talk to him about?”

The smile on Elias’ face reached his eyes, but somehow still looked entirely insincere. “I couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Sims has returned to his previous state of not adhering to the dress code, and if you could gently remind him that dress codes exist for a reason, I would very much appreciate it.” Then he held out his hand, like he was expecting Martin to agree and shake on it.

He wasn’t even entirely aware of his actions, everything happened so fast. One moment, Elias was standing there with his hand out and that smug look on his face, the next moment Martin was swinging the broom through the air and smacking Elias’ hand aside with enough force to sting, but probably not enough to leave a bruise.

As soon as he realized what he did, Martin’s eyes widened, and he dropped the broom, which landed on the ground with a strangely loud clatter. “I- I-”

“Mr. Blackwood, I could have you arrested for assault. But because I consider myself a generous and forgiving person, I will settle for terminating your employment here, effective immediately.” Though his tone was entirely cold, there was a glimmer of what seemed to be amusement in his eyes. “I suppose that I will just have to speak with Mr. Sims myself regarding the previously mentioned matter.” Then he turned and walked out of the break room, leaving Martin behind to ponder his actions.

Even though Elias had done something so very harmful to Jon, and Martin had pictured doing something harmful back, he’d never actually been a violent person, and he had never planned on acting on his thoughts. And now Martin had ruined everything, because he wouldn’t be in the Institute anymore, which meant that his ability to try and protect Jon from whatever was haunting him had suddenly dropped immensely. 

Despite the fact that it was both unprofessional and out of character for him, Martin decided that it didn’t matter since he’d already been fired anyways, and he let out a rather loud, “Fuck!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the many differences I'm making to the background of everyone, when I leave off at the start of season 1, things are going to be in basically the same state as in canon. I just felt like I should make that clear, based on how this chapter went lol


	28. As The Years Go By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is a bit different than usual, but it will be back to Martin's pov next chapter.

17 Years Ago

Elias looked up from his desk curiously when he realized that someone was bustling about the Institute with much more excitement than usual. Always interested in seeing what his employees were up to, he focused on the one in question. A young man who was still in high school, working in the archives for no pay because he needed to have an internship somewhere for at least half a year before he could graduate. His name was Michael Shelley, and he was all but worthless as a worker here. He had none of the entertainment factor that came with the many other assistants that had worked in the archives. 

But even if that was usually the case, Elias couldn’t deny that something was clearly different today, as Michael all but skipped into Gertrude’s office. She looked up at him with her usual stern expression, though Michael seemed to interpret it as more of a blank face instead. He was a willfully ignorant idiot. Even that could almost be entertaining enough on its own, though, especially when Elias saw how Gertrude and the other assistant looked down on Michael.

That wasn’t the point at the moment, though. The point was that Michael clearly thought that something interesting had happened, so Elias patiently waited to find out what it was. Gertrude raised one eyebrow in a way that was probably intimidating to most people, and when Michael didn’t say anything, she was the one who had to speak first. “You look like something good has happened.”

Michael grinned, not hearing the slight annoyance in Gertrude’s voice. “Yeah! You remember that statement you sent me to look into? The one about the Lucille Docker?” Gertrude nodded, clearly hoping that Michael would just get to the point already. “Well I really found her! And she’s just as weird as the statement made her out to be. But that’s not the interesting part. There was a kid there, out in the middle of the woods, trying to escape from Miss Docker. I didn’t learn much about him other than that his name is Jon, but he seemed pretty smart, and capable of surviving the encounter. He was smart enough not to trust me right away either.”

While it was mildly interesting that a child had escaped an encounter with an avatar of fear, Elias wasn’t sure that it was something that really warranted this much excitement from Michael. He was just about to tune out, disappointed to not find anything more worthy of his time, but then he noticed a sudden sharp look in Gertrude’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. “And you’re sure that he was not in league with Miss Docker?”

Michael quickly shook his head. “What? No, he’s just a little kid. Intelligent, but otherwise normal as far as I could tell.”

“Hm. Well, if there’s nothing else, then please write up your findings and have them on my desk by the end of the day.” Michael nodded and walked away, seemingly feeling dejected that Gertrude hadn’t gotten as excited as he had.

Meanwhile, Elias focused more on Gertrude. He had no idea why, but the mention of some random kid who’d almost gotten himself killed had caught Gertrude’s attention, which therefore meant that he’d caught Elias’ attention to. 

Of course just a first name and a vague guess at age wasn’t much to go off of, but luckily, Elias was quite the expert at finding out whatever he wanted to know.

,,,

16 Years Ago

Whenever possible, Elias tended to avoid actually going down into the archives to speak with Gertrude. Not because he was frightened of her, or whatever such nonsense she seemed to believe, but just because she was rude and irritating and he preferred to stay as far away from her as he could.

Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable that he would need to speak with her. He walked into her office without bothering to knock on the door first, and cleared his throat in the way he was smugly aware always served to annoy her. “So I heard that you’re taking a bit of a road trip. Any particular reason why?”

Gertrude looked him straight in the eyes, and Elias refrained from looking away. He really wasn’t scared of her, it was just that she- she had strange eyes. A piercing gaze that seemed to somehow look right through a person. Which was nonsense, because even if she could do that, she’d have to look through two people to see what was at the heart of Elias, and even she was incapable of that. No matter what else might happen, or what she might be capable of, in the end she was still just his employee who didn’t know what the bigger picture was. She was clever, but even she couldn’t figure out all of Elias’ secrets. “It’s a personal trip, and therefore not your concern. Don’t worry, I won’t be billing my expenses to the Institute.”

Elias rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly worried about a few pounds. I’m more concerned about you. Usually you submit rather extensive travel plans whenever you get it into your head to go somewhere.”

Gertrude didn’t break eye contact either. “Like I said, this is personal.”

She seemed content to not add anymore, but Elias couldn’t just leave things like that. “I heard that you stopped by artifact storage for quite a while before deciding to take this little personal trip. Of course, the logs didn’t record you checking anything out of there, but we both know how easily distractible the people in that department can be.”

Gertrude arched one eyebrow, and even though she was younger than Elias (no matter which way he looked at it), he couldn’t help feeling as though she was an old woman looking down on him like he was a naughty child. It was a feeling he definitely wasn’t fond of, and he had no idea how Gertrude had gotten so good at it. “Just what are you implying?”

And just like always, Elias knew he was stuck in a game of always dancing around the truth with other words, even though he and Gertrude both knew exactly what the other was talking about. It was a stupid game, one that was only fun when Elias was talking to people who had no idea that they were even playing, but it was far too late now for them to start speaking frankly with each other. “Oh, I would never imply that the Head Archivist of this esteemed Institute would ever do anything against the rules. But it is always possible that you might have gotten overly excited, and forgotten to sign in the proper places when you left?”

“And just what do you think I got so excited about?”

Elias shrugged. “I would certainly never presume to know you so well. Though I have heard that you are quite fond of reading. So perhaps the thing you might have taken was a… book?” He knew that Gertrude wasn’t going to be honest with him here, but he so hoped that she would be, because he really wanted to know what she was up to, but he also knew that he would never go digging around in her head. Because of professional courtesy, of course. 

Gertrude tilted her head to the side, a faux look of pensiveness on her face. “A book? Now that I think about it, you might be right. Perhaps I did get overly excited with my reading material. I’d be more than happy to return it to its rightful place.”

Elias couldn’t help just staring at her for a moment, unsure of what she was up to. “Ah, no need, no need. You’re already set to head out for your trip of a personal nature, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I can return the book to artifact storage for you.”

The saccharine sweet look on Gertrude’s face was more than enough for Elias to know that he was the butt of an unknown joke at the moment, and he absolutely despised her for it. If she had even the slightest inkling of who he really was, she would never dare tease and insult him like this. “That’s very kind of you, Elias, thank you.” She pulled open one of her desk drawers to rummage through it for a moment, and then pulled out what was clearly a kid’s book, large and flat with covers that looked like they were made of cardboard. “I believe that this is what you were looking for?”   


I t took a concentrated effort not to scowl, and Elias managed to instead offer up a bland smile. “Ah, perhaps you should hold onto it for just a little while longer. Afterall, it must have caught your attention for a reason. I’m so glad that a woman of your age is still able to find books suitable to your level.” He could search her office later for the real book that she had taken, but he had the feeling that she would take it with her, because it was surely connected to whatever ‘personal trip’ she was about to embark on. He did wonder why she had a kid’s book lying around in her office for convenient use at a time like this, but decided that the answer to that wasn’t worth the trouble it would take to get it. “I hope that you have a lovely little trip. Do let me know when you return. After all, as the Head Archivist, you do have a lot of work responsibilities here.”

Gertrude nodded as she slipped the book back into her desk. “I wouldn’t dare stay away a single day longer than I have to.” Considering what they both knew about her employment contract, Elias knew that there was only truth in that statement. 

Disappointed to have not gotten anything out of that conversation, but not all that surprised about it, Elias left to return to his own office. Whatever was going on with Gertrude, there would be plenty of time to figure it out later. At the very least, he could keep an eye on the other assistants to see if they’d do anything interesting. He didn’t think Gertrude would trust them enough to have even the slightest clue about what she was doing, but they could at times be entertaining all on their own.

,,,

A few days later, Elias learned that Gertrude had returned from her trip, and had put away whatever it was that she’d taken from artifact storage. More than a little bit curious, Elias made his way to that department. For some employees, it was too dangerous to ever actually go inside, but Elias knew that he was safe with the protection of his patron, so he wasn’t worried.

Of course Gertrude didn’t actually sign in what she’d never signed out, but it didn’t take long for Elias to look at the bin of things that needed to be sorted, and to see the one that stood out as the most familiar. There, shoved in the middle of the pile like that would stop anyone from noticing it, was the same kid’s book that Gertrude had offered to him before she’d left, and Elias suddenly felt like an idiot for not even trying to take a closer look at it then.

Not wanting to make the same mistake now, Elias pulled the book out (wearing a pair of sturdy leather gloves, of course), and flipped it over to look at the back. Just a glance was enough to tell him where this book had come from, and Elias furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What the hell had Gertrude needed a Leitner for?

No longer satisfied with just letting her move around and do her own thing, Elias began an investigation. He quickly discovered that Gertrude had gone to some small town outside of London, and further research showed that it was the same place she’d once sent her intern to look into a statement from there. 

From there, Elias found the news article about a high school boy who had disappeared, and an eight-year-old boy who had been hospitalized for apparently having a complete mental breakdown. Authorities suspect that the boy witnessed something traumatic related to the missing kid, based on the timing and the location the boy had been found in. 

None of that would even be particularly interesting to Elias, since he’d seen this sort of thing many times before, if it weren’t for the fact that the boy’s name was Jon, and Elias didn’t believe in coincidences.

,,,

12 Years Ago

Elias wasn’t avoiding Gertrude. He just happened to pop by her office at a time when she was elsewhere (making tea up in the break room on the second floor), and none of the assistants were around. The door to the office was locked, but as the head of the Institute, Elias had spare keys to every room in the building.

He carefully stepped inside, not wanting to disturb the disorganized piles of folders and books that were precariously stacked all around the small space. Elias would never not find it strange that a woman with her personality type would let her workspace be this messy.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He’d known it was coming, because he had listened in on a few different conversations that had added up to this. An envelope sat at the bottom of a drawer, an address scrawled across it in the messy writing of a child. Before he could pop it open to read the contents, he was (not!) startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway.

Elias looked up at Gertrude, who stared at him with blatant amusement in her eyes. “Is there something that I can help you with, Mr. Bouchard? Or should I just be grateful that you’re so eager to explore the archives, since you hardly ever have the time to grace us with your presence down here?”

Elias straightened his back to an almost painful degree, and maintained his grip on the envelope. There was no point in looking like he was guilty. He had every right to be in here. This was his Institute. “I never knew that there were any children in your life that you’d be in correspondence with.” Of course the name on the envelope was not Gertrude’s, but they both knew he was snooping around anyways, so why bother with subtlety?

Gertrude remained where she was, which was a bit of a surprise. Elias would have expected her to storm over and snatch the envelope out of his hand. She was usually so straight-forward in these sorts of matters. “An old friend,” she said carelessly, clearly not saying that it was an old friend of hers. “Have you grown so bored that you need the words of children to keep you going? I thought you didn’t like children.”

“I could say the same to you,” Elias pointed out. “You’ve always called them little hellspawn, haven’t you?” She’d never called them any such thing in his presence, but at this point, it wasn’t as though Gertrude didn’t already know that Elias could Know much more than just what he was told. 

She let out a soft laugh that didn’t have even an ounce of friendliness in it. “I hardly see how my opinion on children makes any difference to you.”

Ever since he’d become Elias Bouchard, he’d had very little difficulty with getting people to respect him. Sure, it had been a bit dicey at first, when people only knew Elias as the fun weed guy at the Institute, but after being the head of the Institute for long enough, he had earned respect. Gertrude was one of the few people who didn’t bother to give him any. Not to mention that she was an overall terrible Archivist. “Who is Jonathan Sims?”

He hated the way that the simple question seemed to invigorate Gertrude, filling her with even more amusement than a moment ago. “I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

Elias slammed the letter he was holding down onto one of the few patches of clear surface on the desk. “You like to play with fire so much, Ms. Robinson, but someday you’re the one who’s going to get burned.”

He started to brush past her, but of course Gertrude couldn’t let him get in the last word. “I find that I am not so bothered by that idea, Mr. Bouchard. So long as I don’t go down alone.”

With that, Elias stormed away. He knew he wouldn’t get anything else out of Gertrude, which meant that he probably wouldn’t learn anything else at all. For all the research he’d done, he’d never been able to figure out what it was about Jonathan Sims that had caught Gertrude’s attention. All Elias knew was that if Gertrude was intrigued by that boy, then Elias was too.

,,,

2 Years Ago

When Elias heard the news that Michael Shelley had ‘quit’, he didn’t pay much attention to it. It wasn’t until he learned that the Spiral’s ritual had been disrupted that he put together what must have happened. He leaned back in his seat, feeling strangely surprised by everything. He knew that Gertrude was a cold woman, but he’d never thought of her as the sort who would sacrifice innocent lives. Because Elias was under no illusion about most of the other archival assistants, but he knew that Michael had always maintained his innocence.

Of course Elias didn’t care at all about Michael as a person, but he had to admit that there was something almost sad about the last assistant of the previous generation passing away. There had been other assistants who were much more vicious (and boy were they fascinating to watch), and others who were more eager to leave their job (one Eric Delano came to mind), and others who were more useless (just the thought of that stupid girl constantly passing out was enough to make Elias’ blood pressure rise), but Michael was the last of his generation, in a way, and now he was gone. The two assistants who were left were both much newer. 

Perhaps it was even more surprising when he heard through the grapevine that Gertrude wanted to promote one of the researchers to take Michael’s place. A researcher who’d only been working here for half a year. It only took a quick glance for Elias to catch up, and remember that Martin K. Blackwood was a man who had lied on his resume, had no middle name, and had once written nearly twenty letters to Jonathan Sims. Now that was a name that Elias hadn’t thought about in quite a while. And he didn’t believe in coincidences, so he couldn’t believe that Gertrude would just happen to ask Martin to work down in the basement with her.

But Elias generally gave her free rein over what happened and who worked in the archives, so he didn’t say anything. Martin turned down the promotion anyways, so it didn’t matter. None of this really piqued his interest until the day he was filing various bits of paperwork and he came across the new employee and payroll forms for Jonathan Sims. 

Elias tended to leave Gertrude to do her own business, but he had the feeling that he was going to be keeping a closer eye on the basement than ever. 

,,,

Eight Months Ago

Because of Elias’ preference to not keep as close an eye on the archives as he did on all the other departments, it took him longer than it probably should have for him to realize that the basement was a bit emptier as of late than it was supposed to be. 

He decided to break his usual routine by popping down there briefly, and he looked at the four bullpen desks outside of Gertrude’s office. Only one of them had a person sitting at it, while the others didn’t even have the usual belongings that should be found on desks. There wasn’t so much as a stray pen to be found on the two desks that should have been occupied.

Elias cleared his throat to catch Jon’s attention, since Jon had clearly been too preoccupied with his work to notice that someone else was even there. Jon’s head jolted up in surprise, and he spun around in his chair to face Elias better. In this position, Elias could clearly see the strange choice in clothes Jon had on, and he couldn’t help the way his lips curled up in derision. He had no idea how Gertrude could be so interested in someone who was so careless with his attire.

He must have gone too long without saying anything, because Jon cleared his throat softly and then spoke. “Is there something I can do for you?” 

Having just forgotten what he had planned on saying, probably some questions about where the other assistants were, Elias instead went for the more immediate issue. “I believe that when you were hired here, you were informed of the dress code? Regardless of however you may choose to appear in your own time, when you are on the clock, you must help to uphold the prestigious reputation of this Institute.”

Jon wrinkled his nose and glanced down at himself for a moment before looking back up at Elias. “What are you talking about? I’m dressed professionally.”

One of Elias’ eyes twitched as he realized that he was going to have to spell this out more clearly. “You’re wearing a skirt.”

“It’s a pencil skirt,” Jon immediately defended. “And I’m wearing a tie and everything.”

Elias let out a soft sigh. “If that same outfit was being worn by a woman, then of course it would be professional enough. What you are doing, however, is cross dressing, and it looks quite ridiculous. Not at all up to the standards that we pride ourselves on having. I mean you no offense, Mr. Sims. I only ask that from now on you take more care with your choice in attire.” Then he strode out of the archives before he could get into a full-on argument with the man.

It wasn’t until he reached his office that he realized he’d forgotten to ask about the other assistants. Oh well. He’d just have to ask around about it tomorrow. And definitely not down in the basement, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be welcome down there for a while. Which was completely unfair, all things considered. It wasn’t his fault that Gertrude was apparently so lax with the rules.

,,,

3 Months Ago

Jon tried to quit, but of course he couldn’t succeed at it. Once one entered the archives, there was only one way out, and Jon didn’t have the guts to follow through with it even if he did figure it out. Why was it that the archives always seemed to end up with the most cowardly of all the staff members?

,,,

When Jon returned to work wearing a skirt, something that he hadn’t been seen in in months, Elias couldn’t stop the irritation that flared up inside of him. But what could he do about it? By now Jon had realized that he couldn’t leave, which meant that he had no reason to care about whatever consequences his actions might have. 

The only positive side to any of this was that Jon and Martin were too busy looking into something as foolish as missing mugs and assistants to focus on what was going on within the Institute itself. Which was a relief, really. Even Gertrude hadn’t known so much before she’d been promoted to Head Archivist, and Elias could really do without another headache learning too much and thinking they suddenly knew everything.

,,,

Now

“Why?” was the first thing out of Elias’ mouth. It was meant to sound patient, but ended up coming across as more annoyed, since that’s how Elias felt.

Gertrude gave him a long look, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m afraid that there’s more work to be done in the archives than a single assistant can get done all on his own. If I had two or three others down there, it would be a big help, and would remove a lot of stress from both myself and Jon.”

One of Elias’ eyes twitched. “And I assume you already have some people in mind?”

“Of course. Sasha James and Timothy Stoker would be excellent additions.”

Having no idea what Gertrude was up to, Elias was almost relieved to realize that he had a valid reason for interrupting her plans. “Mr. Stoker is one of the supervisors of the research department, and is quite good at his job. I believe that his talents will be best utilized where he is.”

Gertrude scoffed. “Mr. Stoker has grown bored with his job, and from there, lazy. He is considering looking for a new source of employment.”

Knowing why Tim had come to work here in the first place also meant that Elias knew that that wasn’t true. There was no way Tim would ever leave here without knowing what had happened to his brother. But Gertrude had to know that Elias already knew that, so why bother with such an easily disproved bluff? Elias hated feeling like he didn’t know what was going on, so he went for a different tactic. “Neither of those two have any experience with the library sciences. They’d probably be more of a hindrance than anything. Why would you want them?”

After a few seconds, Gertrude leaned back in her seat, and gave Elias an easy, open smile that immediately had him on edge. “I most want Miss James,” she said as if it were some kind of confession. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my retirement lately, and I must admit that from what I know of her, I believe that she would be an excellent replacement for me.”

Elias furrowed his eyebrows, and slammed his hands down on top of his desk as he abruptly stood up. “What are you playing at? Following Jonathan Sims around for years? Hiring him as one of your assistants? But you don’t even want to recommend him as your replacement?”

The moment he snapped his mouth shut, he knew that by losing control, he’d also lost something else crucial, and the smirk on Gertrude’s face said that she knew it as well. She remained seated, and spoke in a calm voice. “Jon is a bright young man, and a hard worker, but I don’t believe that he’s Head Archivist material.”

Elias slowly sank back down into his seat. “Fine, you can have Stoker and James. But do make sure that you give them at least a little bit of training? I wouldn’t want to have to worry about staples in the archives, or anything.”

Once Gertrude had left his office, Elias couldn’t help letting out a little laugh. He’d finally figured out how to screw up whatever plans Gertrude was putting into place. Because if she didn’t want Jon to be the next Head Archivist, then Elias was going to do everything in his power to make sure that that’s exactly what Jon would become. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In that chapter when Jon told Gertrude he's 34, he was lying off his ass. He and Martin are around 24 at this point, at least in my story, idk about canon.


	29. When One Door Opens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just found out that I actually won a big study abroad scholarship that I had applied for back in February. Feels a bit like I'm being laughed at right now xD

Martin could feel Georgie’s eyes on him as soon as she stepped out of her recording room, and he tried not to fidget too much. “I have permission to be here,” he said before Georgie could even ask him anything.

She raised one eyebrow and walked past him so that she could pour herself some tea from the still-heated kettle. “That’s… fine. But aren’t you bored hanging out here all by yourself?”

It seemed far too pathetic, even for Martin, to admit that he didn’t really have much else to do during the day. His current job hunt wasn’t going very well, considering how underqualified he was for pretty much every position, and he didn’t have any friends to spend time with during the day because Jon, Sasha, and Tim were all busy at work. “It’s nicer here than at my place.”

Georgie continued to just stare at him, which made Martin squirm uncomfortably in his seat. He was relieved when she spoke, because at least it broke the tension somewhat. “You know, I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending quite a lot of time here lately.” She said it in the leading sort of way that meant she was hoping Martin would pick up on something.

He looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry, if I’ve been getting in your way or anything, I’ll just go-”

This time Georgie definitely sounded exasperated when she spoke. “That’s not what I was getting at. I just meant that, well, if you and Jon are spending so much time together, but that you’re also okay with just being in this space even when your boyfriend isn’t here, then don’t you think that it might be time to move on to the next step.”

Martin’s eyes widened in surprise. “You think I should marry Jon for real?”

He pouted slightly when Georgie started cackling loudly, and had to take several seconds to compose herself before she could talk without wheezing slightly. “You two really are hopeless, aren’t you? I just meant that you might want to consider moving in together! Preferably not here, though. As happy as I am for the two of you, I can only handle witnessing so much lovey dovey stuff in a single day.”

“I don’t know. Moving somewhere new together when I don’t even have a job sounds like a bad idea. I barely have any money saved up, and my mother’s care is pretty expensive.”

Georgie shrugged. “It was just a suggestion. Wouldn't hurt to at least think about it or talk about it with Jon.” She finished off her tea, then rinsed out her mug, dried it off, and opened the cabinet to put it away. Martin didn’t think much of it until he realized that he hadn’t heard the sound of the cabinet closing even after several seconds, and he glanced toward Georgie to see that she was still holding her mug, and just staring into the cabinet. “Martin, I think I might be going crazy.”

“What? Why?” He got up and walked closer to the cabinet so that he could see what Georgie was looking at. Because Martin spent so much time in this flat, he’d come to know it just as well as if it were his own, and he couldn’t see anything wrong. 

But Georgie still looked quite confused as she stared into the cabinet. “There are no mugs in here.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows as a swooping feeling went through the pit of his stomach. “That makes sense. Mine’s on the table, yours in your hand, and Jon probably left his in his room again.”

Georgie shook her head. “When I pulled mine out, there was definitely still another one in there, but now there isn’t.”

Suddenly, Martin couldn’t remember whether there’d been one mug or two in there when he’d taken his own out. It wasn’t the type of thing that seemed important to pay attention to, but now he suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking that. Why had he thought that whatever dangers existed in the world were somehow contained to the Magnus Institute? He already knew that something had interfered with Jon’s life and set things into motion, so was it really so hard to believe that the weird mug mystery would extend to Jon’s home?

Now all he could think about was that something terrible was going to happen. “I have to go!” He ran off, even though he knew that that was an abrupt and rude exit, but he didn’t think that Georgie would mind. Martin hopped into his car and made it to the Institute in record time. 

He didn’t bother to talk to the receptionist at the front desk, and just went straight for the basement stairs. Martin paused when he reached the archives and saw more occupied desks than there had been the last time he’d been down here. “Sasha? Tim? What are you two doing here?”

Tim looked up from the paper he’d been scribbling on, and gave Martin a bright smile. “Martin! I didn’t think you were allowed back.”

“I haven’t been re-hired or anything. I just came by to see Jon.”

" You couldn’t have texted?” Tim asked, one eyebrow arched.

Sasha shot Tim an annoyed look, and then got up to walk over to Martin. “Is it something urgent? You look worried. Unfortunately, you don’t have the best timing. Jon’s out looking into a statement right now.”

Tim reached out with his foot to tug over Jon’s empty chair, and then gave it an inviting pat. “Take a seat, let’s talk. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages! Too good for us now that you’re elsewhere?”

“What? No!” Martin felt his face heat up as Tim chuckled.

Before Martin could actually sit down and catch his breath, the door to Gertrude’s office swung open, and the grouchy looking Head Archivist stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s all the commotion out here? You’re not being paid to sit around and gab with each other.” Then her gaze landed on focus, and her eyes seemed to narrow in on him with an almost alarming intensity. “Mr. Blackwood. Perhaps you were not aware, but the archives are reserved for employees only. If you wish to do some research, we have a large library on the third floor for visitors to utilize.”

Martin scowled at her. “Where’s Jon?”

Of course, Gertrude was entirely unphased by the anger being directed her way. “He’s doing his job. I hardly see what concern it is of yours, unless you were planning on disrupting his work as well.”

Martin forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, because he really didn’t want to escalate this situation. “Look, I know that you have some knowledge of the weird stuff that’s going on here. You have to know that something is after Jon, and it isn’t safe to just-!”   


“What do you mean, something’s after Jon?” Sasha asked.

In the past few seconds, Martin had nearly managed to forget that his friends were still standing right there, and he looked at them with a small frown. “It’s-” 

He was saved from having to figure out how to even begin explaining everything that had been going on lately by the sound of his phone ringing. He pulled it out, and frowned when he saw that it was Georgie. They did text each other fairly often, and he had come to consider her a friend, but he didn’t know why she’d be calling him when he’d just left her place an hour ago. He answered, the sick feeling in his stomach from earlier only getting worse. _“Jon’s in the hospital. The one near that little Thai place we like.”_ Then she hung up without giving any further information. Martin glared at Gertrude one last time before hurrying away. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he couldn’t help feeling like this was her fault. 

Martin didn’t even realize that he was being followed until he stepped outside, and then he whirled around, ready to tell Sasha or Tim that it was best for them to stay here and keep an eye on Gertrude, to see if she’d do anything weird. But it wasn’t either of those two standing there. It was Michael.

Or at least, Martin thought that it was. He looked the same as Martin remembered, but everytime Martin blinked, in just that tiny millisecond when his eyes weren’t quite opened or closed, he thought he saw Michael’s body looking strangely distorted, longer and thinner and boneless, with long fingers that ended in sharp points. But when Martin actually looked at the man, he looked perfectly normal. 

It wasn’t until Michael spoke that Martin knew for sure that there was something utterly bizarre about him. It was difficult to describe the sound of Michael’s voice, but it was somehow like he was talking from a long distance away, but still perfectly audible, and it felt as though his voice was many voices layered on top of each other, each one speaking less than a second out of sync. “Ah, Martin, it’s so good to see you.”

Martin could only stare at the man who had once been considered a friend of his. “What happened to you?”

Michael grinned, and the distorted image of him showed a smile that was too wide to physically fit on his face, with the corners of his lips poking off the edges of his face like a child’s drawing. “Does it matter?”

Martin thought of Michael’s abrupt departure from the Institute, and the fact that Jon was unable to quit at all. He thought of the missing assistants that no one else could remember, and the one that had given him a mysterious phone call. He looked carefully at Michael, who looked simultaneously perfectly normal and like a grotesque caricature of a human being. “Yes,” he said firmly. Anything that might give him even the slightest clue about how to help Jon was important. Not to mention that he had been friends with Michael, and did care about what the man had been through.

For some reason, his answer just seemed to amuse Michael, though Martin got the strange feeling that just about anything he said would have resulted in that same level of laughter. “Perhaps I just don’t feel like talking about it. But I can assure you that whatever happened to me and the others isn’t something at risk for Jon.” That was a direct contradiction to what Benoit had said, and Martin wasn’t sure which of them to believe. 

So he decided to focus on a different part of Michael’s words. “The others? You mean the other assistants? You remember them? Do you know what happened to them?”

Michael tilted his head to the side, and it looked like he gave several seconds of consideration to the question before answering. It didn’t seem like he was thinking about his answer, though, so much as he was thinking about whether he felt like answering or not. Martin was glad that he did. “Of course I remember them,” he finally said, sounding almost offended at the idea that he might have forgotten. “You people can lie to yourselves as much as you want, but don’t you go thinking that you can ever lie to me.”

His voice was so unhurried and casual, and it took Martin a moment to realize just how strange it was that Michael would show up now of all times, right outside the Institute doors. “Why are you here talking to me now? Why didn’t you ever come by when you first ‘quit’? Or when you reached out to Jon but then decided not to stick around long enough to talk to him?” He remembered that he’d been on his way to see Jon, who was in the hospital for unknown reasons, and he couldn’t help the suspicion that coiled up in his chest. “Did you hurt Jon?”

Michael laughed again, and the sound grated on Martin’s nerves, like it was something that was never meant to be heard by human ears. “Why on earth would I hurt your precious Jon? He’s a meaningless pawn in all of this, just like everyone else around here.”

Martin itched to just get into his car and speed off to the hospital to see Jon. But he also got the feeling that Michael wasn’t likely to show up for an encore appearance, and Martin needed answers. He felt guilty for it, but decided that Georgie was with Jon or on her way to be with Jon, so he wouldn’t be alone. And he was pretty sure that Jon would agree with him that getting answers was very important. Martin promised himself that he would rush off to see Jon the moment he’d gotten everything he could out of Michael.

Though based on the way Michael kept looking at him so smugly, Martin got the feeling that it wasn’t going to be easy prying answers out of the other man’s hands. That didn’t mean Martin wouldn’t try, though. “So if you know what happened to the other assistants, will you tell me?”

Even though Martin didn’t understand how, there was suddenly a door on the wall of the Institute, right next to the actual front door. There was a smug look on Michael’s face as he gestured to the closed door. “As you can probably imagine, this isn’t my favorite place in the world. Perhaps you’d like to take this somewhere a little more private?”

The way he spoke made it sound like a challenge, and Martin had no idea if it made him a fool or not to try and meet it. But then he just had to think of Jon disappearing someday, like the other two had, somewhere Martin wouldn’t be able to follow, and no one would understand why Martin felt so much grief for it. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was determined to find out. And if it meant walking through a stupid door that had appeared out of thin air, then so be it.

With Michael’s gaze burning a hole in his back, Martin stomped over to the door, took a deep breath in, then flung it open. He didn’t even have time to look at what was on the other side before he found himself being shoved through the opening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we get closer to the end of this story, things are going to start happening faster, and I don't think that there's going to be any more filler chapters before the end, but idk yet. I do quite like writing the fluffy moments, but I also don't want to the slow the pace of the story too much. If you have any opinions or preferences I'd love to hear it :D


	30. World's Longest Hallway

A million thoughts raced through Martin’s mind in the split second in between one blink and the next, as he pictured every possible, horrible, thing that could happen to him on the other side of this mysteriously appearing door. When he actually looked around, though, he found himself mostly just feeling confused. He was standing in a hallway that looked like something out of a low-end hotel, with generic patterned carpeting that had some stains that looked like they’d been there for years, weirdly dim lights in dusty looking glass holders every few yards (just far enough apart to leave about a half foot of shadow between each circle of light), and pale green wallpaper lined the walls, with some of the spots near the ceiling slightly peeling. The only thing that stopped him from thinking he had actually been somehow transported to a hotel was the fact that there were no doors anywhere in sight, just tons of mirrors, paintings, postcards, letters, and all sorts of other similar things that seemed to have nothing in common with each other.

Unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, Martin turned around slowly, and frowned when he saw that the way behind him also held no door, and just contained another endless looking hallway. “Michael? If you’re around here then come out now. I thought we were going to talk.” There was no response, and Martin angrily balled his hands into fists. He had to be angry right now, because if he wasn’t then he’d be scared, and he needed to keep himself calm enough to figure out what to do.

Martin pulled out his cellphone, but he had no bars of service, so he turned it off to save the battery, and slipped it back into his pocket. Since he obviously couldn’t leave the way that he’d come in, Martin started walking forward. He paused when he passed by a window, but when he peered through it, he saw that it was just a decoration, with a painting of a bizarre looking landscape right behind the glass. He couldn’t even figure out why he found the painting so strange, he just knew that something about it seemed somewhat… off.

Martin continued forward, and wasn’t sure how long he walked for, but he knew that nothing seemed to change. Even when he came across corners to turn, everything stayed the same, but stranger still, whenever he’d glance back, there was no sign of the corner he’d just walked around. 

After what felt like it had to have been several hours, Martin came to an abrupt halt, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing this game with you, Michael! Whatever’s going on here, you’re going to tell me right now, or let me go, or something!” He refused to keep walking, because his legs were starting to feel tired, and the atmosphere of this place felt more than a little oppressive.

There was no response to his outburst, and Martin stomped one foot down hard on the floor. It didn’t even make a satisfying noise, though, since it was muffled by the carpet beneath his feet. He sank down onto the floor directly beneath one of the lights, trying not to think about the dubious stains he was sitting on, and rummaged through his pocket to pull his phone out again. He tried to turn it on, but it refused, despite the fact that it had been at ninety percent battery when he’d turned it off.

Martin scowled as he shoved the phone back, but then his eyes widened when he felt something else in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and looked it over carefully. It was a fancy looking lighter Jon had given him a few days ago. He’d said that with all the stress going on in his life, he’d been tempted to start smoking again, but didn’t want to, so he’d given the lighter to Martin and said that he trusted Martin to get rid of it.

Because it wasn’t just some cheap pharmacy lighter, Martin hadn’t wanted to throw it away. It clearly had some history to it, and Martin had figured that he’d just find a better place to store it, in case Jon wanted it back someday once it stopped representing something other than history.

But then Martin hadn’t gone back to his own flat since then, so he hadn’t had the chance to store it somewhere. He hadn’t really looked at it closely before, but Martin figured that he had time right now. It was mostly plain silver, tarnished but clearly well cared for, and there was a small engraving of a feather pen, a flaming torch, and a heart between the two images, as well as the letters J.M. in a script so fancy that it was almost unreadable. Martin wasn’t sure what the initials stood for, but he assumed that the lighter was some kind of family heirloom. He was no good at guessing ages, but it was pretty obvious that it was some kind of antique, considering the strange top and the fact that it looked nothing like any modern lighter Martin had seen.

It would be a shame if it were to get damaged, and not just because it was probably worth some money. It was something that belonged to Jon, probably Jon’s family (of which he had none left anymore). But it was better to risk the fate of this old lighter than to stay trapped in this place forever.

Martin stood up and pulled the glass dome off of the light. He paused when he saw that the lights were not, in fact, electric bulbs, but were flames that somehow never seemed to flicker. Then he grinned, because suddenly he had a way better plan than a moment ago.

Martin fumbled with the lighter for a moment before he could figure out how to make it work, and then he flicked it on and held it out triumphantly. “You’ve got gas lighting in here, and I’ve got a lighter. I think you can do the math about what I’ll do if you don’t let me out of here.” He didn’t even know for sure that Michael was watching him, but he got the feeling that Michael knew everything that Martin was up to while he was in this place.

Several long seconds passed with no response of any kind, and Martin reached out to turn the flame off the wall light. He got prepared to take in a deep breath before turning the gas up, but then there was suddenly a door in front of him. Not wanting to wait and give it the chance to disappear, Martin yanked it open and dashed through.

He found himself falling into a large puddle, and was immediately soaked by the pouring rain around him. It had been a sunny day before he’d entered that place made of endless hallway. Martin shook off the lighter and hoped that all the rain didn’t ruin it as he jammed it back into his pocket and looked around.

He wasn’t in front of the Institute anymore. He wasn’t sure where he was, exactly, but when he spotted a nearby street sign written in French, he thought he had some idea. Martin let out a loud noise of annoyance, then rushed to find some shelter from the rain, eventually taking sanctuary in a little cafe. He was able to borrow a phone charger after a very confusing conversation that involved a lot of waving his phone around, and as soon as he could, Martin turned the device back on.

He stared in surprise at the screen, which told him that it had only been about twenty minutes since Georgie had called him. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, because he felt certain that he had been trapped in those hallways for much longer than that, but decided not to question it. 

Martin took a deep breath, then dialed Georgie’s number. She answered almost immediately. _“Are you on your way?”_

Martin sighed. “I’ll explain later, but it’s gonna take me some time to get there. The next train isn’t for another half hour, and then it’s an hour on the train.” And seventy dollars that he really couldn’t afford considering his current jobless situation, but it’s not as though he had many other choices. “Can you just tell me what happened? How’s Jon doing?”

From the brief pause, he could practically hear Georgie exploding with questions for him, but she managed to reign herself in and stick to the important things for now. _“I haven’t actually seen Jon yet, I was just called here because I’m still listed as his emergency contact. The police were here too, and apparently Jon got mugged.”_ Martin inhaled sharply as he began imagining every possible gruesome outcome that could have occurred. His heart was beating so loudly that he nearly couldn’t hear Georgie as she continued. _“He got stabbed- but only in the arm, and from what I’ve been told so far, it isn’t anything too serious. Just a couple of stitches and he should be fine. I guess I should have explained better when I called you, because you were probably freaking out, huh.”_

“Still am freaking out,” Martin said with a slight squeak in his voice. “How the hell does Jon manage to be such a trouble magnet?” The fact that he was being haunted by some mysterious force was one thing, but that he would also be attacked by some ordinary human while he was nowhere near the Institute was a whole new issue. “If you get to see him before I can get there, tell him that I’m on my way, alright?”

 _"_ _Sure. But Martin, are you okay? I mean, I just saw you less than two hours ago, and you ran off in such a hurry, and now you’re apparently a one hour train ride away?”_

Of course Martin believed in the supernatural. With everything he’d experienced, it would be more crazy for him to not. And he knew that Jon believed in it all too, which meant that he was someone who was safe to talk to about these things. But Martin realized that he actually had no idea where Georgie stood on the matter, and he really didn’t want her thinking that he was insane. So he just quickly thought of the most plausible lie that he could come up with on such short notice. “I’m just out, uh, job hunting.”

There was another brief pause, followed by a drawn out, _“Right…_ ”

Martin squeezed his hand tightly around his phone. “Anyways, I’ve got to go. Just, uh, text me or something if there are any updates?” Then he hung up before Georgie could even finish saying goodbye, and he sank down into a seat at a nearby table. What the hell even was his life?

,,,

By the time Martin returned to London, he was still feeling a bit damp as he let himself into Jon and Georgie’s flat. Georgie had texted him about half an hour ago to let him know that Jon had been discharged and that she’d brought him back home.

It probably would have been better for Martin to go back to his own place to shower and change into dry clothes, but he just really needed to see Jon, to see with his own eyes that he was alright, but also because Martin had just been through a very strange experience and he needed the comfort of being held by his boyfriend.

Martin sank down onto the couch next to Jon, who turned to look at him with less tiredness than Martin would have expected from someone who got mugged and stabbed. Jon’s eyes widened in concern as he took in Martin’s appearance. “What happened? Where have you been?”

Martin checked that he wasn’t sitting on the side next to Jon’s injured arm, then leaned over and let his head rest on Jon’s shoulder with a light thud. “Can we talk about it later?”

Jon was nice enough to not send Martin away despite still being soggy, and just shifted to put his arm around Martin’s shoulder. Even though Jon was a lot smaller than him, there was still something so comforting about being held by him. Something safe. “Guess we both had a rough day,” Jon murmured. They were both silent, and Georgie was quick as she came in and set two mugs of hot tea down on the coffee table in front of them. Martin idly noted that Jon’s mug was there despite having seemingly vanished this morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much about a stupid mug at the moment.

Georgie quickly slipped away to give them some privacy, which Martin really appreciated. It was the perfect time to start explaining what his day had been like, from the missing mug to the expensive train ride, but Martin just felt so warm and safe where he was, and he was so tired after walking around those halls for ages (or maybe only twenty minutes?), and his eyes slid shut as he nestled further into Jon’s side. He told himself that he’d just rest for a few more minutes, and then he’d tell Jon everything about his day. Just a few minutes, that’s all.

,,,

When Martin opened his eyes next, he felt bleary and confused, and he looked around to figure out why he felt so disoriented. He was still lying on the couch, but he was laid out properly, his shoes and damp jumper had been removed, and a thick blanket had been tucked all around him. 

Martin slowly sat up, and stretched. His clothes felt very uncomfortable against his skin, and he wandered into Jon’s room to grab some of the spare clothes that he knew he had lying around in there. He paused in the doorway when he saw Jon sitting at his desk, mumbling to himself as he flipped through loose pages in a file. Now that he wasn’t so exhausted, Martin was able to get a better look at the other man, and he could see the bandage wrapped tightly around Jon’s forearm, and it was several inches long. “How many stitches did you need?” Martin asked as he reached up to rub at his eyes.

Jon slowly looked up from whatever he’d been doing, and gave Martin a wry smile. “Eleven. Also, you can rest assured that I’ve already scolded Georgie for her excessive use of the word ‘stabbed’. Honestly, it hardly even qualifies as a scratch. If it weren’t for a good samaritan calling an ambulance, I probably would’ve been fine with some antibacterial cream and a few plasters.” The teasing lilt of his voice faded away as he stood up and walked closer to Martin. “You should know, though, that it wasn’t a mugging. I just didn’t know what else to say to explain what happened. You know how I don’t believe in coincidences, right? Well, I didn’t recognize the woman who approached me, but she said her name is Abby, and since Abby just so happens to be the name of one of those missing assistants…”

He trailed off, and Martin suddenly threw his arms out to pull Jon into a tight hug. In a weird way, he almost found it to be a relief that Jon being hurt was somehow connected to everything else going on. He wasn’t sure how to describe that feeling though, so he just settled for hugging Jon tighter. “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

Jon hugged him back just as tightly. “Well, okay is a strong word.” He finally pulled back, and then gently let go of Martin. “You should take a shower and put on some clean clothes, and then I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”

Martin nodded, but stole one last hug and a brief kiss before grabbing some clothes and shuffling into the bathroom. It had been such a long day for both of them already, but they needed to know exactly what they were up against. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://i.ebayimg.com/images/i/311108381134-0-1/s-l1000.jpg) is what I picture Jon's lighter looking like, but obviously with the way I described it, not the letters shown in the picture. 
> 
> Also I looked it up and there is a train that can go from a town in France to London in about an hour.


	31. Way Back Then

Everything felt so much better once Martin was in clean, comfy clothes. He was suddenly very grateful for the fact that he’d left so many spare things lying around Jon’s flat. He wiped some steam off of the mirror over the sink, and stared at his reflection in the few seconds he had before it fogged up again. He could see just how exhausted he looked, but he knew that he couldn’t go to sleep quite yet. He needed to know more about just what the hell was going on. How else was he supposed to protect himself and Jon and everyone else?

Once he’d put it off for as long as he reasonably thought he could get away with, Martin shuffled out of the bathroom and back into Jon’s room. Jon was sitting on the bed with his back up against a mound of pillows so that he was sitting upright, and he had changed into his own pajamas. Martin sank down onto the bed as well. It was a bit too small for both of them, which meant that whenever they shared the bed they had to press right up against each other. It was something that neither of them minded. There was something so warm and comforting about being that close to a loved one.

Jon put his arm around Martin’s shoulder as if he could somehow pull him even closer. “So do you want to go first, or should I?”

Martin still didn’t feel up to talking about his day. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to listen to all the details of whatever had happened to Jon, either, but it did seem like the slightly more preferable option. “You.”

Jon nodded, accepting that answer without any probing questions. “I was out looking into a statement for Gertrude. She wanted me to find out if there was any hints of truth to this truly outrageous story about a man who’d supposedly been abducted by aliens with an obsession for cakes- but that’s hardly the point. As I was walking to my destination, since it was near enough to the Institute that it seemed like a waste to not walk, when I passed by an alley that I could hear loud shouts coming from.

“It was the kind that is very difficult to identify as pain or… something else. In case it was something else, I didn’t want to call the police and make the whole situation that much more awkward. So I went to investigate myself, and I was prepared to close my eyes and make a run for it the moment I spotted anything untoward.

“I saw a man lying on the ground, unconscious and beat up looking. It’s while I was kneeling to check his pulse that the woman showed up. I didn’t even hear any footsteps behind me, which is crazy because that kind of cramped little alleyway is always super echoey. Anyways, I stood up to look at her, and that’s when she told me her name. Abby. I immediately assumed that she was the missing archives assistant Abby, but she didn’t exactly confirm or deny that.”

He went silent then, and Martin turned his head slightly so that he could get a better look at Jon’s face, though they were so close that it mostly just made Martin go cross-eyed. “So what did she do? I mean, besides stabbing you.”

Jon let out a tired chuckle. “I’m getting to that, I’m getting to that. She said that she has nothing against me, that it was nothing personal, but that she had to fulfill a promise she’d made, even if the person she’d made it to couldn’t remember anymore. I tried to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but that’s when she stab- scratched me. Then the guy on the ground jumped up and the two of them ran off together. I left the alley, and someone saw me bleeding, and called for an ambulance before I could say anything. Look, I might not remember Abby the assistant, but you do, right? So what was she like?”

Martin thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. I mean, I only interacted with her a few times, mainly when I was down in the archives to see you. I don’t think she was the type to go around assaulting people, though. But I do know that even before she vanished, she’d started acting a little weird.”

“Weird how?”

He tried his best to think back to his last conversation with Abby. “Well, she’d always seemed like the friendly, cheerful sort, at least as far as I could tell, but one time when I went down to the archives to bring you some tea, you weren’t there, so I asked her where I might find you, and she acted very irritated. At the time I figured that she was just having a bad day, but now… who knows.”

“Martin?”

“Hm?”

Jon sighed. “I wish that I hadn’t been so rude to you that night you approached me during trivia. Especially now that we know it was all over a misunderstanding. If I had been nicer, we would have been able to reconnect without me ever getting a job at the Institute.”

Martin frowned. “You went for the job there because of the card found with your grandma’s things, right? So wouldn’t that have happened either way?”

“Maybe. I guess I’d just like to think that there was at least some point in my life where I had the chance to get off this crazy ride.” They were both silent for a few minutes, and then Jon cleared his throat. “So are you ready to talk about your day? All I know is that Georgie said you probably weren’t job hunting, and that you came back here soaked.”

He wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk about it, and he knew that if he said that, Jon would accept it, but he also knew that in these circumstances, it was best for both of them to be as informed as possible. Not that sharing information had really done much for them so far, but it just felt like their safest bet. Plus, if Martin was going to talk about this with somebody, then he definitely wanted that person to be Jon.

So he explained everything that had happened, at least as far as he had understood it, from bumping into Michael, to the endless hallway, to the threat of arson, to finding his way home from France. “Actually, now that I’ve mentioned it out loud, I’ll admit that I’m a bit curious about your lighter?” Jon tilted his head in a gesture for Martin to go on. “Where did you get it? I mean, it’s clearly not one that you picked up on sale at the convenience store.”

Jon sighed. “Remember how I told you that when I got my grandmother’s things back from the hospital and there was a pack of cigarettes but no lighter? This is the lighter I was talking about. I honestly don’t remember ever actually seeing my grandmother smoke, but I do remember that she always carried this and some smokes in her purse. Which is why it was so memorable that it wasn’t with her stuff in the end. I never touched it when I was younger because it looked so complicated I was afraid I’d accidentally burn down the house with it or something. Anyways, it turned out later that it must have fallen out of her purse when she collapsed, because I found it under the couch. Why didn’t you get rid of it when I gave it to you, though?”

Martin shrugged. “It looks old, and old things are usually important. And now I’m especially glad that I held onto it since it belonged to your family. I just thought that you might want it back someday, even if you don’t want to hold onto it right now.” When Jon didn’t complain, Martin figured that he wasn’t in trouble for not throwing it away. “So you don’t know who had it before your grandmother?”

“Well, like you said, it’s old, so it probably belonged to someone else before her, but I have no idea who. Maybe her parent, or grandparent, or something.”

Martin chuckled as he said, “I bet your family is the type to keep extensive records and can track your family tree back to the stone age, or whatever.”

To his surprise, Jon shook his head. “Not really. I mean, we can go back to the early 1800s, which I think is mostly due to the fact that by some strange happenstance, everyone up until my grandmother were only children, but then the line stops there. I think one of my ancestors got pregnant without being married, and it was kept all hushed up, so it probably just comes down to no one bothering to record who the father was.” 

“Maybe I’m just stupid, but couldn’t you at least track it back on the woman’s side even if they never wrote down who fathered her child? I mean, wouldn’t there still be records of who her parents and such were?”

Jon shrugged. “Not that I know of. We don’t have any old journals or anything, so there’s really no way to even guess, but there could be any number of reasons to not have records from past that. It could have been that they were just damaged, or that she was an orphan, or disowned, or adopted, or any number of things, really.”

“Do you know her name?”

Jon laughed. “Why Martin, I never knew how interested in history you are. Hang on,” he motioned for Martin to stay while he slid out of bed and left the bedroom. There was the sound of rummaging, and a few things falling that made Martin wince, and then Jon returned. “I never really knew what to do with some of this stuff after my grandmother died, so I’ve just been holding on to most of it. Here.” He plopped down on the bed again, this time with his back up against Martin’s chest so that he could open the beat up looking notebook on his lap and both of them could look down at it. “Let’s see…” he flipped through until he got to what he was looking for. Martin could see the list of names and dates, and figured that this was the family tree. “The first name on here is one Priscilla with no recorded last name. She had just the one kid born in 1811, and never got married. Looks like her daughter, Amelia, would have been my great-great-great-great grandmother. Amelia didn’t have a last name either, until she married Anthony Bowman. So has your curiosity been sated?”

Martin wasn’t even sure what exactly he’d been hoping for, but for some reason he was pretty sure that he hadn’t found it. Maybe he’d wanted to spot a relative somewhere on that list with the initials JM so that he could know who the lighter had originally belonged to. “Your grandmother’s name was Isabelle?” was what he asked instead of trying to say the rest.

Jon laughed. “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

Martin shook his head. “I’m not sure if I ever heard her called that before. But wow, she was born in 1925? I don’t think I ever realized how old she was.”

“Yup. Close to ninety years old by the time she died. Pretty respectable age.” Martin was nice enough not to say anything about how much respect he thought that Jon’s grandmother deserved. He noticed as Jon’s finger traced over his mother’s name for a moment, which had nothing branching out of it. “Maybe my family was just bad at keeping track of these things. Because there’s no way that there could be this many parentless people, right?” For the most part, the list went down in a straight line, with only the occasional off-shoot from someone who had married into the family. “So what about your family?”

Martin shrugged. “I guess keeping track of this kind of thing was never really a priority to anyone in my family. I know the names of my grandparents and great grandparents, and a few aunts and cousins and such, but that’s about it. There’s not really much about the older stuff.” In the silence that followed, Martin continued to study the family tree resting on Jon’s lap. Nothing new jumped out at him, though he did note how strange it was that Isabelle Sims was the first in the tree to have a sibling, and then she went on to have three children of her own, a set of twins and Jon’s father. “What happened to your aunts? This doesn’t say.”

“Hm? Oh, they died when they were much younger. I guess my grandmother never got around to updating it. They died before I was born, which means that they had to be younger than 23, but I have no idea when it actually happened or what the circumstances were. My dad died when I was too young to remember him so he couldn’t have told me about his sisters, and I don’t think my mom ever mentioned it, even if she did know.”

Martin sighed as he rested his chin on Jon’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms loosely around Jon’s stomach. “So you’re really the last living person in your family?” It was so strange to think about. Even if Martin’s mother were to drop dead tomorrow, God forbid, he’d still have distant cousins and aunts and uncles out there. He might not be close with any of them, but they did exist. 

Jon shrugged the shoulder that didn’t have Martin resting on it. “I never really thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess so. But it doesn’t really matter anyways. I never knew most of the people on this chart. And besides, it might not be through blood, but I do have a family still.”

That gentle declaration sent butterflies fluttering through Martin’s stomach, and he was glad that from this angle, Jon wouldn’t be able to see how red Martin’s cheeks got. “Jon, you’re a complete sap.”

Jon snorted. “Now there’s something you wouldn’t hear most people claiming about me.” Then he closed the notebook, and reached out to set it on the bedside table. “It’s getting late, and we’ve both had a long day. We should probably get some rest.” Once the lights were off, and they were both lying comfortably together, or at least as comfortably as they could manage when Jon’s arm clearly still hurt despite what he claimed, Martin closed his eyes and got ready to go to sleep. He still felt exhausted, though he was worried that his earlier impromptu nap would make it more difficult to sleep now.

After a few minutes, Jon cleared his throat. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you with everything else going on, but I got a wedding invitation today. Want to be my plus one?”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows, and squinted to see Jon’s face in the dark. “Whose wedding?”

“Do you remember an old friend of mine, Olivia? I’m pretty sure that you two must have met before you moved away, but it’s hard to remember an exact timeline from back then. Anyways, she was a good friend of mine through middle school and high school, and even though we’ve fallen out of touch a bit in more recent years, we still talk on occasion. She’s getting married to her girlfriend of four years, Romana. The wedding’s in about a month, I think. I can give you the more specific details in the morning.”

It took a moment, but Martin did remember Olivia. He immediately felt embarrassed as he remembered how stupidly jealous he’d been of her back then, thinking that she was taking over the role of Jon’s best friend. But now he was glad that Jon had had someone like that in his life, since he’d thought that Martin had ditched him and probably would have never made the effort to make new friends on his own. “I’d be happy to be your plus one.”

Even in the dark, he could tell that Jon was smiling. “I’m glad.” Then he gently squeezed Martin’s hand that was holding his. “Goodnight, Martin.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” 

Neither of them could really sleep in the aftermath of what they’d been through that day, but they could still hold each other close and take comfort in knowing that they were not alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite what you might think, this was not, in fact, a filler chapter.


	32. Property of Jonah Magnet

“Are you even paying attention to me?”

Martin looked up, and saw a little pout on Tim’s face. “What?”

Tim sighed overdramatically. “I was right, you aren’t listening to me.” The teasing tone quickly faded, though, and he gave Martin a more serious look. “The last time we saw you, you were running in here, shouting about someone being after Jon, then we found out that he was mugged- which we only learned because he didn’t show up for work yesterday- and now you’re acting really spacey. What is going on with you two?”

Martin sighed, and leaned back in his seat. He hadn’t really wanted to come out to lunch, but Jon had insisted that it would be good for him to spend time with his friends, and that Jon needed some time to himself to ‘think about things’. It was such an ominous phrase even in normal relationships, let alone one fraught with all the stress that theirs had. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you or anything. It’s just been a long few days.”

Sasha let go of her girlfriend’s hand so that she could lean forward and place her hand on top of Martin’s. “Of course. And no one’s blaming you for that. We’re just worried about you and Jon.”

“If you’re really so concerned that something’s going to happen, then shouldn’t that be even more reason to let us in on it?” Tim chipped in. “I mean, we do work down in the archives now, which means that we’re in the ideal position to help Jon.”

Martin winced. He’d been trying his best not to think about the fact that basically all the people he liked best were stuck down in that basement. “I appreciate the offer, I really do, but it’s just…” he pulled his hand away from Sasha’s so that he could fidget. “I really doubt that you’d believe me. About any of it.”

Sasha raised one eyebrow. “Are you forgetting where we work, Martin? We’re all believers in something or other.”

There was an oddly serious gleam in Tim’s eyes. “You never know. We might surprise you.”

Maybe it was because Martin trusted that they wouldn’t call him crazy, or maybe it was just because he really needed his friends, but his shoulders slumped down as he leaned back, and he gave in, telling them about everything they didn’t already know. Even Sasha’s girlfriend Allie, who worked in a perfectly normal coffee shop, didn’t interrupt with any loud noises of disbelief. 

When he was done talking, they all just sat there in silence for a few long moments before Tim cleared his throat. “I know that it’s, uh, not really relevant to any of the stuff that you just said, but I want you to understand how seriously I’m taking all of this. I want to tell you about why I work in the Institute. About- about my brother.”

,,,

By the time Martin got back to Jon and Georgie’s flat, he felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Just knowing that there were other people who believed him and who had promised to do their best to watch over Jon while Martin couldn’t, it made him feel so much lighter. 

Jon wasn’t home yet, but Martin didn’t feel as awkward about being there without Jon as he had even just a few weeks ago. Maybe he really should give more thought to Georgie’s suggestion of moving in together. Though she had also said that it preferably wouldn't be here, and Martin couldn’t help worrying about what the process of finding a new place and moving into it might do to Jon, who was clearly already under a lot of stress from everything else.

Georgie wasn’t home either, at least not as far as Martin could tell (though he’d never risk his life by knocking on the door to her recording room). He looked over at the Admiral, who was perched on the back of the couch. “Looks like it’s just you and me, bud.”

The Admiral opened his mouth in a giant yawn, then curled up in a little ball. Taking that as a dismissal, Martin nodded once, then went into Jon’s room and closed the door behind him. Since he didn’t have anything better to do, he started tidying up. Jon had a bad habit of just throwing things onto the floor the moment something new caught his attention, so even though it wasn’t a dirty space, it was definitely a messy one.

Martin paused in his work when he shifted aside a pile of wrinkled shirts that had been sitting around long enough to become a feature of the room, which revealed a small stack of books underneath. Martin picked one up, and immediately realized that they were journals. He started to open the top one up without really thinking about it, but then snapped it shut as soon as he realized what he was doing. There was no way he was going to just read Jon’s journals. Journals were private things, and Martin knew that he didn’t have the right to all of Jon’s thoughts just because they were dating.

But then he frowned as he peeked at the edge of a page, not even opening it wide enough to read more than a word at the end of each line. That definitely wasn’t Jon’s handwriting. It was in a fancy cursive, and besides that, the pages were too yellowed to be recent. As he looked closer, Martin thought that he might vaguely recognize this as one of the books Jon had retrieved from Gertrude’s house the time Martin had given him a ride there.

Now that he knew he wouldn’t be invading Jon’s privacy by looking, Martin’s curiosity won over his sensibility, and he flipped the book open to the first page. He almost didn’t look at the inside of the cover, but his eyes were drawn to a large, eerily detailed drawing of a human eye. And at the top of the inside cover were the words, in the same fancy script as the rest of the journal, _‘Property of Jonah M’_ with the rest of the word after M scribbled over to the point of being illegible, then below it in smaller print that was clearly a different handwriting, it said, ‘ _Property of the Esteemed Jonah Magnet’_. Martin blinked in surprise as he stared. Despite the teasing little addition, he was pretty sure that he was actually holding the journal of Jonah Magnus, founder of the Magnus Institute. It would make sense for Gertrude to have it, since she was the Head Archivist, but why had she given it to Jon?

Eh, it probably didn’t matter. Martin had a lot more modern problems to look into, and didn’t have time to be worrying about whatever drama had been going on two hundred years ago. He set the journal aside and picked up the two that had been under it. Both of those also said _‘Property of Jonah M’_ with the last name scribbled out, and both of them had drawings of eyes, though each of the three drawings depicted a different eye. 

Martin put all of the journals back onto the floor when he heard the sound of the front door opening, and he got up to see if it was Jon. He grinned when he saw his boyfriend come inside and pull his jacket off to hang on one of the hooks by the door. “How was your day?”

Jon didn’t jump, so he must’ve already guessed that Martin would be here. “Eh, same as always. I have been trying to take more time out of the archives lately, though. I know Abby attacked me while I was out there, but that still somehow feels like the safer option than sitting around under Gertrude’s eyes all day. She’s pretty intimidating for an old woman.”

“Doesn’t help that she stole our childhood letters,” Martin grumbled. Then he remembered what he’d just been doing, and he felt like he had to bring it up to sate his curiosity. “I was trying to tidy up a bit in your room, and I came across some old journals. If they’re the ones Gertrude gave you, that was ages ago. But are they really- Jonah Magnus’?”

Jon squinted his eyes in confusion for a moment before a look of understanding passed over his face. “Ohh, I completely forgot where I put those things. I was supposed to research some statement or another at the time, but then I lost them and figured that it would be best not to tell Gertrude about that.”

Martin snorted. “You are so unqualified for your job. Not that I’m really one to talk, I know.” Jon walked over and gave him a quick kiss before heading to the kitchen. Martin followed after him. “So did you get a chance to read any of them before losing them? And you didn’t answer my other question. Did they belong to Jonah Magnus?”

Jon shrugged. “I had a lot of other things on my mind, so I lost ‘em before I could read them. Which means I have no idea whose they were; I only know that they’re old.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Want a cup?” he nodded towards the kettle as he asked.

“Yes please.” He watched as Jon prepared it just how he liked it, and then they both sat down at the table. “So are you planning on reading them?”

Jon tilted his head. “Why so interested?”

Martin shrugged one shoulder. “I was just thinking that if there really is something weird going on with the Institute specifically, then regardless of whatever it has to do with you, maybe there’s something we could learn from the guy who found the whole place.”

“Not a bad idea, actually. Georgie won’t be back until tomorrow. Want to grab one of the journals and meet me on the couch?”

Martin nodded and quickly went to grab one. He took the one that seemed to be the oldest based on the brief glimpses of dates that he saw when he flipped through, and he took it back out to the living room. Jon was already settled on the couch, looking quite cozy, and Martin was more than happy to cuddle up with him. “Why don’t you read them out loud? You’re the faster reader.” It was a little embarrassing to admit, but Martin was actually very fond of Jon’s voice, and thought that he could probably listen to it all day. 

From the look that Jon gave him, it was hard to figure out whether he had already caught on or not, but if he had, he was nice enough to not say anything about it. He just took the journal from Martin and opened it up to the first page. Martin watched as Jon’s eyes traced over the inside cover, from the realistic looking eye drawing to the ‘Jonah Magnet’ bit. 

Then he cleared his throat and started reading. _“July 13, 1808. I think that this whole idea is foolish, but Father insists that writing my thoughts will help me to understand them. But I find it difficult to believe that the same method would work for him and I, because each thought that is conjured into my mind is already many times more brilliant and unknowable than Father’s entire lifetime of thoughts put together. It is truly incredible to think that we are related at all. But for the sake of easing his mind about me, and the grief that I still hold, I shall write in this journal and pretend that it does me any semblance of good._ ” Jon flipped a few pages ahead, apparently deciding that there was nothing interesting in between. 

_“August 3, 1808. I met someone today. She is a servant of the Applebottom family. She is one year older than me, or so she thinks, though she does not know her exact date of birth. When I asked her how that could be, she replied that she was too young when she was born to remember such trivial details. I believe that she was making fun of me. Which was perhaps well-deserved, since she did have to clean up the drink that I spilled over the floor. When I asked about her later, Mother and Father both said that I should do well to not associate myself with such a lowborn person. For that reason, I shall henceforth refer to her only as C in this book, in the unlikely event that one of my parents grows nosey. I do not know if I wish to see her again._

_“August 5, 1808. Father has left on a business trip, leaving me in charge as the man of the house. I am using this opportunity to visit Sebastian Applebottom, who is a perfectly acceptable playmate from a good family._

_“August 5, 1808. I was fooling myself by believing that I would stay by Sebastian’s side for the entire day. Not only is he an obnoxious, arrogant, stubborn, fool, but there is someone far more interesting in that household. I had not consciously intended for such a thing, but I saw C again.”_ Jon stopped and shook his head. “Come one, Martin, this is boring. Do you really want to hear about some dead guy’s shitty attempts at flirting?”

Martin nodded earnestly (though he suspected Jon must actually enjoy this too, because why else would he only read the entries that mentioned the mysterious C?). “Ooh, should we grab popcorn?”

“Martin….”

He laughed as he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, so I’ll take that as a no to the popcorn.”

Jon shook his head. “At least not while we’re handling this antique. Now if you’re really sure you want to hear this…” Martin nodded again, and Jon sighed, but he did continue. _“August 7, 1808. C approached me and said she’d noticed all my staring. She then said I was obligated to follow her to an unknown location because I was being ‘weird’. I had nothing better to do so I followed, and she led me to a field full of flowers and wild rabbits. She brought some vegetables with her, probably stolen, but I didn’t ask, and we fed the rabbits together. It was an interesting experience, though I wonder if it would have been nearly as entertaining without her there. C has a way of speaking that seems to make fun of me without being cruel, and her presence seems to light up whatever room she is in. It is a phenomenon that I do not understand, and will need to study extensively until I do._

_“September 8, 1808. Mother is dead and so is the babe. I will not be an older brother after all._

_“December 22, 1808. It is nearly Christmas, but Father is still not home from his latest business trip. I know that Mother’s death hit him hard, but it feels as though he has abandoned me. I am old enough to be a man now, or nearly so, but I still wish there was someone who could tell me what to do, because I feel lost._

_“January 18, 1809. C came to the estate today, despite not being invited. The last time I saw her was when she offered condolences for my Mother. She said she was fired from the Applebottom estate, though refused to tell me why. She begged for a job here. We employ very few servants, as we are a modest household, but she seemed so desperate, and I know that Father does not care about what goes on in this house, not anymore. So I agreed to give her a job on a probationary period, working as a maid. She nearly cried from the relief of it._

_“January 29, 1809. It feels as though it is impossible to concentrate on my letters these days, as I am ever-aware of C in the background. Even when she is not in the room, I seem to feel her presence there, and it prevents me from getting my work done. Technically these letters should not be my responsibility, but I know that my Father will not do them on his own. He has been ever so listless since Mother’s death, and seems unable, or perhaps unwilling, to be an active participant in his own life anymore. So for now, I do his work for him, and only get him to sign the letters once they are written. But how am I to get this down when C is always here?_

_“February 14, 1809. Everyone insists on making such a fuss today simply because they want an excuse to act like children. I gave all the servants the day off, because I suspect that I would get very little work done with them here._

_“February 14, 1809. C approached me with a piece of chocolate she had made. She claimed it was supposed to be in the shape of a heart, but I swear that it is only a formless blob. She came in while I was writing the former entry, grabbed this journal right from my hands, and proceeded to deface the inside cover. I could simply cross it off, but after the way she looked at me today, I feel I would be a fool to do so. I would enjoy it if she looked at me like that more often, foolish as I know these feelings to be._

_“March 11, 1809. C told me that she does not know her date of birth, but if she could choose the day to celebrate it on, it would be today. When I asked her why, she explained that it would let her share the celebration with one of her favorite book characters. Despite how long we have known each other now, I did not know she could read, though when I told her as such, she grew quite offended. She insisted that she is capable of any number of things that I do not know, and then left. When I returned to my chambers this evening, I found my bed made quite messily, and I can guess the culprit. Perhaps I should apologize, even though she is the one who is apparently incapable of doing her job correctly._

_“March 12, 1809. I had the cook bake a small cake and give it a rich frosting, and then I presented it to C, along with a new edition of the book she had mentioned yesterday. I said that they were late birthday gifts, and she cried as she accepted them. She hugged me, then, and I could sense the disapproval radiating off of the other house staff. But C has never seemed to care much for what other people think of her, and it is a trait that I can respect. We spent the evening drinking from one of Father’s more expensive liquor bottles, eating cake, and going back and forth reading passages from the book. It was such a simple event, and yet it was one of the best days of my life._

Martin was torn out of the fascinating tale when Jon abruptly snapped the journal shut. “What are you doing? Things were just starting to get good.”

Jon rolled his eyes, and leaned over to playfully shove the book at Martin. “It’s also starting to get late, and I still have work in the morning. You can read more on your own if you want, though.”

While he did want to learn more about the writer, and he did want to see if there were any clues that definitively identified him as Jonah Magnus, Martin got the feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly as fun if it wasn’t being read aloud to him by Jon. So he just shook his head and handed the journal back. “I can wait. What are you doing tomorrow after work?”  
Jon let out a soft laugh. “Reading an old journal, apparently.”

“Only if you don’t mind,” Martin added in a softer voice.

Jon quickly moved to pull Martin into a hug. “Of course not. Any time that I spend with you is wonderful. Besides, at this point, I’m starting to think that we’re just not cut out for normal types of dates.”

They both laughed as they retreated to Jon’s bedroom, though Martin did take the time to notice that Georgie’s door was slightly ajar, which meant that she’d come home at some point but slipped past them quietly enough to not be heard. She was a very considerate flatmate, wasn’t she.

Inside Jon’s room, Martin carefully put the journal down on top of Jon’s dresser, then grabbed the other two journals to put them there too. Hopefully they wouldn’t get lost again this time. Then he quickly changed and slid into bed, wrapping himself around Jon. “I feel the same way, you know,” he said quietly. When Jon hummed inquisitively, Martin elaborated. “Any time that I spend with you is time wonderfully spent.”

Jon let out a happy little noise, and burrowed deeper into Martin’s said. “Night, Martin.”

“Goodnight, Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do too many of these chapters end with them going to bed and saying goodnight to each other?? xD


	33. A Little Separation

The look on Jon’s face when he’d showed up to the theater had been enough to tell Martin that there was bad news waiting on the horizon. But Martin hadn’t wanted to think about whatever it was that Jon wanted to tell him, so instead he’d just played dumb and dragged Jon inside. They were already there, so they might as well at least watch the movie that they had come to see, right?

And it had been a decent enough movie, with some funny moments (though more of the funny moments came from Jon’s whispered commentary that got them loudly shushed by the person sitting in front of them), and they had held hands the entire time even though Martin was pretty sure that his had gotten a little sweaty at some point. 

But once the lights came back on, and they headed back out to the lobby of the building, Martin could see Jon’s good humor fading away. Still wanting to delay whatever was going on, Martin tugged Jon to a little open craft market he’d just discovered recently. It was a very niche place probably meant for suburban hipsters, but there were some interesting things to look at.

From the way Jon looked at him, Martin knew that Jon knew what he was doing, but Jon was nice enough to let him get away with it, at least for now. They wandered the market, looking at fancy wools and cheeses and jams, all of which were way out of Martin’s price range considering his current lack of a job. 

Eventually it started to get dark out, and Jon gave Martin a long look. “It’s time to go home,” he said softly.

Martin tightened his hand, which was currently holding Jon’s. “The sky is so clear tonight, we could get a good look at the stars. Why don’t we go to the park, and-”

Jon sighed, and he sounded so tired that Martin couldn’t force himself to keep making excuses. “I’m not breaking up with you, if that’s what you’ve been worried about all day.”

Somehow, that thought hadn’t even occurred to him, despite how serious Jon looked. He shook his head. “That’s not what I was thinking. I’m just… I don’t even know what to think.”

“Let’s just go home,” Jon repeated. They went the rest of the way back to Jon’s place in silence, and then kicked their shoes off one they were inside. Jon looked around as he waited for Martin to hang up his jacket. “Georgie? You here?” There was no response, and Jon nodded like that’s what he’d been expecting. 

He walked over to the couch and sat down, gently patting the cushion next to him so that Martin would follow suit. Martin gulped as he sat down, and shifted so that he could look fully at Jon. “What’s going on?”

When Jon reached out so that he could hold both of Martin’s hands, it only made Martin’s heart beat faster, and not for good reasons. What on earth could put that look onto Jon’s face? Jon took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. “Alright, I’m just going to say it. Like- like ripping off a plaster, I suppose. Martin, Gertrude is sending me away. Temporarily!” he hurried to add. “To look after something for her. It’s too far to commute, so I’ll probably be gone for about two weeks. I’ll definitely be back in time for Olivia’s wedding, though.”

Martin frowned. “Can she even do that? Surely when you applied to be an assistant to an archivist, there was nothing in the job description about having to travel long distances.”

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Expenses will be covered, but yes, I agree that it isn’t a highly usual situation. I could just refuse, since I don’t think Gertrude can fire me any more than Elias can, but if she’s getting me out of the way like this, it must be for a reason.”

“You think she’s going to make some kind of move at the Institute?”

Jon shrugged again. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know why she thinks that I’d get in the way if I was there, since I don’t get involved in office politics, but I think that it’s for the best that I humor her for now.”

Martin nodded. “Then I’ll come with you,” he decided. “I do still have a little money saved up, and it’s not like I have any obligations going on here.”

Jon shook his head firmly. “I need you to stay here, Martin. To keep an eye on things. To make sure that Sasha and Tim stay safe down in the archives. And to cuddle with the Admiral when he’s feeling lonely. I know it isn’t fair of me to ask this, but you’re the person I trust most to watch over things here. Even though you told Tim and Sasha about everything, they’re just as much in the middle of it all as I am. You’re the only free agent who can get in and out of the Institute on a regular basis without causing any suspicion. Will you do this for me? Please?” 

Of course he didn’t want to leave Jon off on his own for two weeks, but he also knew that Jon was right. Who else could keep track of everything going on here while Jon was gone? He let out a heavy sigh, then nodded once. “Yes- but only if you promise me that you won’t do anything reckless, and that you’ll stay safe.”

Jon squeezed his hands. “I can promise I won’t intentionally do anything reckless, but as for the other part… if trouble comes searching for me, there isn’t much I’m going to be able to do about it. But I do promise to do everything in my power to come home to you, Martin.”

They both just sat there, holding hands and looking at each other, for another minute before Martin cleared his throat. “Georgie suggested that you and I should move in together,” he started, before stopping, face getting red with embarrassment. He didn’t even have a job, had barely any savings, and had his mother’s medical care causing an expensive drain into what little resources he did have. 

But instead of noticing Martin’s abrupt stop, Jon just furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Martin in confusion. “Haven’t we already done that?”

He was about to disagree, but then Martin stopped to actually consider it. Most of his clothes and commonly used items were here, he felt comfortable using the shower, he was okay with hanging out here even when Jon wasn’t around, he got along well with the Admiral, and he spent the majority of his time here. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually gone back to his own crappy little flat. Somehow the realization took him by surprise, even though he’d obviously been slowly moving in a little bit at a time. “Huh, I guess we are. I guess she just meant- meant a place of our own, though. Just you and me, I mean. And the Admiral, of course! Wouldn’t dream of leaving him behind.” 

When Jon didn’t respond immediately, Martin grew more and more nervous. Maybe it had been a stupid thing to bring up right now. Not just because of the finances, but because of everything that had been going on lately. Just as he opened his mouth to take it back, though, Jon responded in a thoughtful tone. “That’s certainly something to consider. Probably not the kind of thing that should be done in a spur of the moment decision. We’ll talk about it more when I get back, alright?”

Martin’s gaze was drawn to Jon’s sleeve. Even though he couldn’t see through the cloth, he was well aware of the fading scar on the skin beneath. It’s not that he didn’t think Jon was capable of taking care of himself, it was just that there was something out to get him and they didn’t even know what or why. “What if she isn’t sending you out there to make a move on the Institute?” he blurted out. “What if she’s sending you right into the lion’s den? We still don’t know why she had those letters of ours or what actually happened to Abby and Benoit or what-”

Jon slumped forward so that his forehead was pressed up against Martin’s chest, and he spoke in a voice that was just quiet enough for Martin to hear when there was no space between them like this. “Whatever’s going on, we’re not going to get answers by avoiding the places that we might find them. I’ll make sure to stay as safe as I can, but it’s not like it’s all that safe for me here, either, all things considered. This is something I have to do, Martin. Please understand that.”

He really wished that he didn’t understand, but he did. He tugged his hands free so that he could wrap his arms around Jon’s back, tugging his boyfriend even closer to him. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. When are you going?”

“Er- tomorrow,” Jon admitted in an equally quiet whisper. “Sorry. I would have given you more advanced notice, but I just found out today myself. I don’t even know if that’s because it’s something that came up so last minute, or if it’s because Gertrude’s purposefully trying to keep me on my toes.”

Martin sighed. “You’re going to be gone for so long. Why don’t we read some more of the journal tonight?” He would record the whole thing, not because he was that interested in the journal, which he could just read himself anyways, but because it would give him a lot of Jon’s voice to listen to if he started to miss him too much at some point during the next two weeks. 

Jon nodded. “Alright, I’ll just go grab it.” Once he had it, he returned to the couch, where he repositioned himself so that he was sitting with his back up against one of the couch arms, and his legs lying on top of Martin’s. He flipped through the pages until he found where they’d left off, then flipped forward another couple, still trying to focus only on the interesting romance stuff for some reason. He cleared his throat once, then began. 

_ “April 2, 1809. I noticed that C has been putting on quite a bit of weight since she arrived here. I would just chalk it up to her having such a large appetite for a servant, but it can’t be that, since she seems to throw up everything she takes in. I get the bad feeling that I know what this means. I don’t want to ruin her reputation if I am wrong, though, so I will give the matter a little more time. _

_ “April 7, 1809. When I saw C this morning, I could immediately tell that she is much larger. I pulled her aside to speak in private, and told her that it had been irresponsible of her to drink liquor with me on her birthday. She did not call me foolish for berating her, and I knew that I was right. This must be why she was fired from the Applebottom’s, but she had been too ashamed to tell me the reason. I asked who the father is, but she would not tell me. I suspect Sebastian, but there is no way to know for sure without C confessing. For now, I will do my best to help her, but if she is caught by Father, there will be nothing left that I can do. _

_ “May 16, 1809. Things seem to be progressing well with C’s pregnancy, though I am no doctor, so I cannot say for sure. She has stopped getting sick all the time and is able to eat more, so her belly is now more evenly matched by the rest of her. C asked if I would think of names for the child. I fear that she is getting too attached, and reading too much into my kind gestures. I also fear that perhaps she is not. _

_ “June 1, 1809. The news broke today. Sebastian Applebottom is dead, found drowned in the lake near his home. As far as the authorities can tell, it was just a tragic accident. The look on C’s face when she heard the news only confirmed my theory that he was responsible for her current state. At least she is safe now. _ ” Then Jon suddenly skipped ahead a bunch, and when Martin looked at him curiously, he offered a sheepish little smile. “I’m curious to see where this pregnancy ends before we go to bed.” His eyes skimmed over the pages until he apparently found a spot that he thought was a good place to jump in. 

_ “November 1, 1809. Last night was long and difficult, but we all survived it. C has confessed that she does not feel capable of raising a child on her own, but did not want to simply abandon him. Today I went out with her and we found a couple willing to adopt the baby. C refused to give the baby a name, not wanting to grow too attached to her. We can only hope that that couple will raise C’s baby well. _

_ “November 2, 1809. I got very little sleep last night because C would not stop crying. When I talked to her, she admitted that the real reason she had changed her mind about raising her child is that she knew she would never be allowed to stay here as a single mother, and she had not wanted to leave me. I am unsure of what I have done to deserve such devotion from her, though I am sure that I can guess. I am not unaware of my looks, which are exceptionally good, and my personality, which is generous to a fault, and very caring. If Father tries to send C away now, I will fight for her right to stay here.” _

Jon closed the book, and Martin frowned. “I really want to know who this ‘C’ girl was. And I hope that her baby did get a good home. I’m so curious to learn more. Plus there’s still the other two journals.”

“You could always read them while I’m away,” Jon suggested.

Martin only thought about it for a few seconds before shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be the same. Besides, I don’t think I have your ability to just skip over all of the boring parts.”

Jon chuckled, and the sound filled Martin’s heart with warmth. He really didn’t want Jon to leave, but he also couldn’t help wanting to rush him right out the door. Because the sooner that Jon headed out, the sooner that he would be able to return. 


	34. While the Jon's Away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? An update that's actually on time? It's more likely than you think xD

Martin tried not to look up, even when he could feel the intense gaze drilling holes into the back of his head. He’d been watched for days now, but this was the first time that both Tim and Sasha had left their desks at the same time, leaving Martin alone at Jon’s desk. He tried to ignore the prickly sensation that came from being stared at, but eventually he gave in, and pushed his seat back to see who was looking at him like that. Gertrude stood in the doorway of her office, arms crossed over her chest. “Last I checked, you were fired from this Institute. Who do you think you are to come in here and spend so much time in the archives, which are not for public access?”

Martin gulped, but forced his voice to come out without trembling (much). “Jon had to leave so last minute, and he left a lot of things to be done, and, and-”

He was almost grateful when Gertrude interrupted him, since it meant that he didn’t have to keep stuttering on like a fool. “Ah, right, the two of you are together.” There was a weird emphasis in her voice, almost like she was being judgemental, but Martin wasn’t sure what she could be judging. He and Jon were a good match for each other, and they had many years of history to support that fact. “Mr. Blackwood, you are not welcome here simply because your partner says it’s so. He is merely an assistant, and has no control over how this place is run. If you have specific research to do, then you may request access to the library, just like anyone else.”

She turned to go back inside her office, like that was the end of it, but Martin scrambled to stand up (so that he would be taller than her, which made him feel just the slightest bit more secure). “Why did you give Jon journals that belonged to Jonah Magnus?”

Gertrude arched one eyebrow and looked at Martin in a way that made him almost fear for his life. How she ever convinced so many people that she was just a sweet, innocent old lady, Martin would never understand. “I suspected that they would be useful to some research of his.” She said it in a tone that implied it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Martin frowned at her. “What research?”

“Mr. Blackwood, it’s hardly any of your business what research your former colleagues conduct while they work here. Now if you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to call someone to remove you-”

Martin shook his head, but didn’t move any closer to Gertrude (he didn’t want to come across as a threat if anyone else were to walk in, and he already knew that she would not be threatened by him at all). “But those have to be so valuable, as- as antique artifacts or something, right? So why-?”

Gertrude let out an annoyed sigh, and reached up to push her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She turned and went into her office without another word, but didn’t slam the door shut behind her. Martin just stood there, unsure about what he should do. Before he figured anything out, Gertrude returned, walking right up to him. She held out a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn out of a notebook in a hurry. “I suggest you look this up in the library. Now I will not ask you again to leave.”

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind, Martin let out a tired noise before he took the paper and walked away. He looked down at it, and recognized the weird filing system that was used here in the Institute, but had no idea what was being stored in this specific location. Most likely it was just Gertrude trying to lure him out of the archives, but just in case it was anything important, Martin would check it up.

He walked up the stairs until he reached the research floor, and headed straight to the library. It would be too awkward to go to the bull pen and see all of his former co-workers. He didn’t know what they’d been told about the circumstances of his firing, but he was sure that it was nothing flattering towards him.

Martin carefully avoided the few employees that were in the library searching for materials, and just focused on finding what Gertrude wanted him to look at. He ended up in the section that contained typed copies of old historical letters and newspaper articles that were too fragile to let the originals be handled. 

He flipped through until he found the one that he was looking for, and pulled it out of the filing cabinet. The sticker label on the edge of the laminated paper said ‘J. Magnus to E. Bertie, November 9, 1811’ along with the series of letters and numbers that were used to sort the letter. 

Intrigued, Martin took the letter over to one of the little wooden tables that were scattered throughout the library, and sat down to read it. 

_ Edward, I appreciate your condolences for my father’s passing. He was still so young, but he had been plagued by severe heart sickness ever since my mother’s death three years ago. Even his physician was surprised by how long he was able to endure. Due to these circumstances, I have been acting as the head of my household in my father’s stead for several years, but now it is official. I am the Magnus patriarch, despite being just a year shy of two decades.  _

_ With that out of the way, I must confess to my true purpose in writing to you. Four months ago I left home to tend to my father’s business and ensure that his death did not cause any ruination of his business. At the time that I left, there was a pregnant woman in my care. I shall not beat around the bush about this matter, as improper as it might seem to address it so frankly. You may have already suspected this, but the child carried in Priscilla’s womb was mine.  _

_ So I am riddled with confusion as to why I returned to this estate to find no Priscilla, and no babe. As foolish as it may sound, I have come to care a great deal for this woman, even if she is merely a maid. We have been through much together, and I have no reason to doubt that she feels the same way for me. I entrusted my home and my people to you while I was away. Please prove that my trust was not unwarranted, and tell me what has happened. I impatiently await your response, Jonah _

Martin stared at the page, then read it over again as if that would cause the words to somehow change and mean something entirely different. But the letter remained the same no matter how many times he read it over. 

He abruptly shoved his chair back and rushed over to the cabinet of letter copies. He searched through, but there were thousands of letters, and they were not sorted in any coherent way, so if this Edward guy’s response was here, Martin had no idea how to find it. He carefully took a picture of Jonah Magnus’ letter with his phone, then filed it away before heading home.

Georgie was in her sound studio recording, so Martin was careful not to make too much noise to bother her. He quietly found the notebook Jon had shown to him fairly recently. He flipped to Jon’s family tree, and his eyes instantly landed right at the top. The very first person listed, Priscilla with no second name, who had a child in 1811 and was never married.

Martin pulled up the photo on his phone to read it once more. There was no way it could be possible, and yet… wasn’t Jon the one who didn’t believe in coincidences?

,,,

“So how’s your trip going so far?”

Jon let out a soft huff.  _ “Rather annoying. I haven’t yet found what I’m looking for, but I am determined. I don’t want to be away from home for any longer than I have to be. How are things going on your end?” _

Martin fidgeted with the corner of one of Jon’s pillows. “Jon… if I were to tell you something absolutely crazy, with no real evidence other than a coincidence, would you believe me?”

There was a moment of just Jon’s soft humming under his breath on the other end before he answered.  _ “I suppose it would depend on just how unbelievable this thing is. Don’t get me wrong, I do trust you, but I am still a pragmatist.” _

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. Well, it’s nothing urgent anyways, and I wouldn’t want you to get distracted when you’re supposed to be staying safe, so I’ll just wait to tell you about it until you get back. Maybe I’ll be able to find more out about it in the meantime. You wouldn’t happen to have any suggestions about where one could go to find evidence about a scandal from two hundred years ago, would you?”   


Jon let out a loud snort.  _ “Martin, I can barely figure out what’s going on with modern day scandals. Though I’ll admit that the question has me intrigued. And if any actual emergencies do come up, then you’ll be sure to let me know, right?” _

Martin nodded even though he knew that Jon wouldn’t be able to see the motion. “Of course. And same goes for you. If you get into any unplanned trouble I want to help.”

Then from there the conversation shifted into lighter topics, both of them more than happy to just forget about all the other things going on for just a moment. These little moments, the ones that weren’t about monsters or stalkers or muggers or supernatural incidents, or whatever else was plaguing them right now, these moments were the ones that reminded Martin so much of growing up with Jon, and made him feel pleasantly nostalgic. He really was so glad that they’d gotten the chance to meet each other again.

,,,

Georgie had headed out last night for some important top secret business that she wouldn’t elaborate on (Martin suspected a secret date, but wasn’t shameless enough to actually suggest such a thing out loud). She’d asked him to feed the Admiral if she wasn’t back by morning, which is why Martin was pouring out the usual amount of dry food into the cat bowl that was on the floor near the kitchen sink. “You really are just living the life here, aren’t you?” he asked the cat, who didn’t respond.

He was startled out of the petting session by the sound of a knock at the front door. Martin wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was already late enough that Tim and Sasha should be at work, and Georgie had her own key so she wouldn’t knock (and even if she did forget it, she knew where the spare was hidden in a little removable chunk of the doorframe). 

Not sure who was there, Martin hesitated for a moment before grabbing one of the knives from the wooden block on the counter, and then he went to the front door. “Who is it?” he asked, one hand on the doorknob.

Whoever was out there left a brief pause before they answered with a question of their own. “You Jonathan Sims?”

There was a sudden swoop of unease in Martin’s belly, and he clenched his hand tighter around the knife handle. “Sorry, I- I think you have the wrong address. There’s no one by that name living here.” Then he held his breath as he waited for them to just go away already.

The stranger let out a sharp laugh that sent shivers down Martin’s spine, regardless of the thick door between them. Then he felt a slight movement, and realized that they were trying to turn the knob from the other side. Even though it was locked, Martin held the knob tighter as well, trying to keep it from rotating even the smallest amount. “Is this really how you treat a friend? Why, I’d even go so far as to say that you’re being downright inhospitable.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Martin bit out. “Please go away before I call the police.”

That same grating laugh rang out again. “Oh that’s what you’ll do, is it? Don’t you know that that would require you to let go of the door?” Martin’s hand started to get slippery from how much sweat was building up on his palm, and he felt his grip on the knob slipping. He looked around desperately for something that might be used to block the door from opening, but there was nothing within easy reach. The stranger continued in a casual voice, as if they weren’t standing there and doing their best to terrify the occupant of the flat. “Or I suppose you could just let go of the knife instead, if you’ve got your phone on you.”

Martin froze in place as he stared blankly at the solid door. There was no peephole in this door, which meant that there was no way for the stranger to know what Martin was holding. How did they know? He could feel his breathing getting erratic, but he didn’t know how to calm himself down. For some reason, none of his years of public schooling had trained him on what to do in a situation like this.

Then he heard faint footsteps coming closer from the direction of the elevator. He could feel it the moment the stranger let go of the knob, and he heard Georgie’s voice, which sounded simultaneously cold and pleasant. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The stranger laughed once more, but if Georgie made any reaction to that awful sound, Martin couldn’t see it. “I’m just an old friend of Jon’s, here to see him. I don’t think he’s home right now, though. I’ll just come back later.”

Georgie said something else, but it was too quiet for Martin to hear it through the door. He listened as a set of footsteps headed away, and then heard the soft click of a key being put in the lock. He took a step back, but didn’t put down the knife. The door opened a moment later to reveal Georgie, a puzzled look on her face. She didn’t seem surprised to see that Martin was armed. “There’s something not right about that woman.”

“What?”

Georgie tilted her head to think about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Not sure. Well, guess it’s time to invest in some stronger security. Just in case. I have no idea who that woman was, but I get the feeling that she is not Jon’s friend.” 


	35. Connections

Jon let out an awkward little chuckle that was unbelievably endearing.  _ “So, uh, I think I’ll be heading home today. I think I found what Gertrude sent me for, so, yeah.” _

Martin couldn’t refrain from grinning widely to himself. “That’s great! Nearly a week earlier than expected. I’ve missed you so much.”

_“I’ve missed you too, Martin.”_ There was a short pause, though the silence was surprisingly comfortable between them. Then Jon continued. _“I, uh, don’t want to worry you, but there may have been a… hm, shall we say_ incident _. Nothing major,_ ” he hurried to add, _“But I thought I’d give you a bit of advanced warning about you. You know how terribly inflexible I am, so I’ll probably need your help getting the ointment on my back.”_

Martin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and gripped the phone tighter. “Ointment? Jon, what happened? Are you okay?”

_ “I’m fine, I’m fine, really, it’s just a small thing. It’s probably easier to explain in person, but the short version of it is that I’ve got a few, er, cigarette burns on my back.” _

It took a herculean effort for Martin to not shout out loud in surprise. He took a few deep breaths before saying anything. “I don’t understand how that could happen.”

Jon sighed, but, strangely enough, didn’t sound tired in the way he so often did when things were going badly.  _ “I was jumped in the middle of my investigation. Apparently some people aren’t as fond of the pursuit of knowledge as I am.”  _ He let out another sigh before going on.  _ “I really am okay, though. I gave the police a description of the attacker, and I’m sure they’ll look into it.” _ He didn’t sound that sure, but Martin didn’t interrupt him.  _ “And the doctor that I saw here said that with proper care I should heal up quickly enough, and that the scars will probably fade without any help.” _

As he listened to Jon talk, Martin couldn’t stop his brain from going into overdrive, trying to figure out what it was about this situation that sent shivers down his spine. Of course he was quite concerned that Jon had gotten hurt, but it wasn’t just that. After a few seconds, he spoke before the thoughts could even fully come together in his mind. “Both of the times you’ve been hurt recently were while you were out doing research for Gertrude.”

_ “Martin, what are you suggesting?” _

Martin shrugged even though he knew that Jon wouldn’t be able to see it. “I don’t know. Probably nothing. I’m just so tired of you getting hurt. I wish you could just quit.”

Jon gave a soft ‘hmm’ of agreement.  _ “I should be home soon. Probably in time for dinner and everything.” _

Martin nodded, accepting that Jon was done with this particular topic, at least for now. And really, who could blame him for that? “I’ll make something. We still have those steaks in the fridge.”

_ “But you hate steak.” _

He wrinkled his nose just at the thought of it. It wasn’t a problem with the flavor, since he was fine with other beef products, but something about the texture of steak was just so revolting to him. At least it was if there was even the slightest hint of pink anywhere in it. But if Martin was the one cooking, he could carefully make sure to avoid that. “Georgie’s not here tonight, so she can’t make fun of me for how well-done I make it, so it’s fine.” Then he asked about something else to change the subject and talked to Jon for a little while longer. As soon as he hung up, he couldn’t help thinking about how much he was looking forward to seeing his boyfriend again.

,,,

Of course Martin fussed over Jon’s back after dinner, carefully applying the ointment over each burn, and then gently wrapping the gauze around Jon’s chest, securing it in place when he was done. He guided Jon to lay down on his stomach, and Jon didn’t put up much of a fight.

Once he looked suitably cozy, he tilted his head to the side to look up at Martin. “What was the thing you wanted to tell me before?” he asked in a low murmur. “The thing about the two hundred year old scandal?”

Between hearing what had happened to Jon, and the creepy experience that had happened here just two days ago, Martin had almost forgotten entirely about everything he’d recently learned. He fumbled to get out his phone, and pulled up the picture he’d taken of that letter copy. He held it close enough that Jon would be able to read the whole thing without moving.

When he was done, though, Jon sat up and plucked the phone out of Martin’s loose fingers, staring down at the screen intently. “There’s no way…”

Martin reached over to grab one of Jon’s hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “I double-checked that family tree you’d shown me before. The farthest back it goes is an unmarried woman named Priscilla who gave birth in 1811.”

Jon nodded absent-mindedly at the reminder, and then looked up with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m such an idiot! Martin, if you were going to use a nickname for Priscilla, what would you pick?”

Martin frowned as he thought about it, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Prissy? Cilla?”

He caught on to what Jon was saying as Jon spoke the words out loud. “Cilla  _ C. _ This is so insane. Martin, can you go grab the journal we were in the middle of?” Martin nodded and hurried off to retrieve the journal, then quickly returned to the bed as he handed it to Jon, who flipped it open to the very last page, then worked back a couple of pages from there. He cleared his throat and started reading right away, more rushed than he usually sounded when he read out loud.

_ “December 25, 1810. This morning I gave C the lighter that I had commissioned for her. When she did not react right away, I was worried that she thought me selfish for giving her a gift with my initials engraved on it. But then she revealed her gift for me, which is certainly no lighter. She is pregnant. _

_ “I feel far too young to be a father, and yet I feel a strange sense of excitement about it as well. It feels as though it is some kind of omen that I would learn of this news when I am so close to reaching the end of this journal. A new life begins as I approach the final page of my own younger years. I can hardly believe it, but I know that even C would not joke about such a thing. _

_ “I am going to be a father.  _

_ “It feels so strange just to write the words down. But strange in a good way. I am happy. _

_ “December 27, 1810. I have given the matter much thought, and I believe I have arrived at the most reasonable conclusion. C and I shall get married. It will spare our child the title of bastard, as well as afford C the benefits and privileges befitting a woman like her.  _

_ “If someone were to ask right now if I am in love, I am not sure that I would be able to answer truthfully. But I do know that I am happy, and I whole-heartedly believe that C will be a good mother to my son, raising my child to fulfill the grand legacy that I will leave for him someday.” _

Jon stopped, then gently closed the book. “That’s the end. Where are the other two?”

Martin took the journal back from Jon, but paused before heading to fetch the others. “Whatever secrets and family mysteries you might uncover, they’ve been sitting there for hundreds of years. Maybe you should pace yourself a little bit here.”

“If I am distantly related to Jonah Magnus, then it isn’t some kind of life-changing revelation. It’s just interesting, is all.”

Martin narrowed his eyes. “If your family tree is accurate, then you aren’t just some distant relative to him. You’re a direct descendant!”

Jon crossed his arms over his chest. “So?”

Martin heaved out a long sigh. “So what if that’s connected to whatever’s going on lately? Your grandmother died suddenly, which led to you getting a job at the Magnus Institute, a place that you literally can’t quit and are most likely related to the founder. A place where there are missing assistants erased from peoples’ memories and a woman who stole- and held onto- a bunch of letters written from one child to another. A woman who sent you out to do research that got you injured on two separate occasions!” He stopped to take in a few deep gulps of air, and to calm himself down. “It’s- it’s- well, it has to mean something!”

Jon reached up to stroke thoughtfully at his chin. “Maybe you’re right. Everything that’s been happening would be strange enough at any workplace, but knowing that I’m related to Jonah Magnus does somehow make the whole thing feel a lot more suspicious.” He was silent for a moment before looking up. “Oh, and don’t forget the part where I met Michael as a child when he saved my life. I don’t know how this all connects together, but it is another connection.”

Martin nodded. “Yeah.” He scooted over so that his shoulder was pressed up against Jon’s, but made sure to not actually put any weight on Jon so he wouldn’t jostle his new injuries. “Gertrude is the one who told me where to find that letter from Jonah Magnus, and she intentionally gave you those journals, which means she must know that you’re descended from him.”

“I guess the only real question now is why it even matters so much to her,” Jon said softly. They thought about it for a while longer, but neither of them could come up with any plausible explanations, so eventually they found something else to talk about so that they could distract themselves from all the mysteries of the world for just a little while longer.

,,,

“You know, I’m impressed. You’re catching on a lot sooner than I would have expected you to. I’d say that I’m losing some bets because of you, but there’s not enough people who care about your fate for me to bother putting money down on it.”

Martin jumped up at the sudden voice talking right into his ear, and whirled around to see Michael standing behind him, giving him a gleeful grin that looked far more menacing than it had any right to. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

Michael laughed, and Martin clenched his teeth together tightly. Whenever he heard Michael’s laugh, he worried that his ears might actually start to bleed. “This is a public library, isn’t it? Or are you going to tell me that I’m not allowed here now?”

Martin took a few deep breaths in and out to try and get himself under control. He had no idea what Michael’s goals were, but he did know for sure that he had no wish to wind up back in those endless corridors, so he had to at least try to be civil with his former friend. “I didn’t realize you were such a big reader, sorry.”

He tried to step around Michael, but Michael moved smoothly to block Martin’s way. “Now is that any way to speak to someone who’s just trying to help you?”

Martin balled his hands into fists. “Help me? You left me stranded in- in France!”

That made Michael laugh again, but at least the noise was blessedly brief this time. “Oh, no hard feelings about that. You did threaten to burn my hallways, afterall. How would you feel if a tapeworm in your intestines threatened to burn down all your internal organs?” Just the question was enough to make Martin feel a bit queasy, but Michael barrelled on before Martin could protest. “We are friends, don’t you remember, Martin? I’m only trying to help.”

“Why? Why would you want to help us?”

Michael shrugged, looking bored as he answered. “The Archivist wronged me, but she is not a very easy person to get back at. She is annoyingly clever and all too capable of protecting herself. She may be a terrible Archivist, but that doesn’t stop her from being deadly. So the best way to get back at her is to stop her plans,” he announced in a cheery voice.

Martin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What plans?”

Michael shrugged one shoulder. “Does it matter?” 

He thought about it for a moment. He thought about the way Jon had winced just pulling his shirt on this morning, and how they were both so stressed because of everything that was going on, and how Martin was constantly worried about what might happen to his friends. “No, I suppose not,” he admitted reluctantly. “I can’t even begin to guess what she’s trying to do, but I know that it can’t be anything good,” he answered grimly.

“That’s the spirit!” Michael cheered. “Well, now that we’re united by a common goal, that makes us a team.”

Sure, he didn’t trust Gertrude. But that didn’t mean that Martin automatically trusted Michael, either. Not after everything that had happened. Still, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about what was going on. “So what exactly is Gertrude up to? And how can we stop her?”   


Michael tilted his head to the side in a gesture that looked disturbingly familiar to the Michael he’d once been, back before he’d become like… this. “Stop her? I’m hardly sure that’s even possible. We could kill her, I suppose, but knowing her, she’s already left explicit instructions for her replacement to make sure they follow through with all of her plans.”

“What? If we can’t stop her, then what’s- what’s the point of this?”

Michael laughed, and Martin just barely resisted the urge to reach out and slap him for it. “Well, I’ll get my revenge, for one thing. But more importantly, it will be undeniably entertaining to watch you try and take her down.”

Martin just stared at him, but there didn’t seem to be any sign on Michael’s face that he was joking around. “You’re insane,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

Apparently Michael’s hearing was quite strong, though, because he just grinned that wider-than-possible smile of his. “Insane? Me? Ah, Martin, you just don’t understand. I can’t be any more insane than your pinky toe can be.” Then he turned and walked away without another word, melted into the crowd that Martin hadn’t even noticed during their short conversation. 


	36. Stranger Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is trying to work out a comprehensive timeline of events, you should probably just give up now. These dates and years may not make sense, and I've long ago accepted that fact xD

Martin let himself be dragged through the crowd by Jon as they bee-lined towards the new brides. When they reached the women, who both looked lovely in their wedding dresses, Jon grinned up at one of them. “Congratulations!” If their names hadn’t been said during the ceremony, Martin wouldn’t have even known which one was Olivia, because neither of them looked particularly familiar to him.

Olivia grinned back at him, and then pulled him into a sudden hug. “I’m so glad you could make it! You know, just the other day, I was telling Romana about that time our class took the field trip to that monster museum-”

Jon quickly shook his head as his cheeks got darker. “Ah, there’s no need to go over that again!” 

They both laughed, and then Olivia turned to look at Martin. “And you must be Martin. It’s funny, I can’t remember what you looked like as a kid, but I never forgot your name, because Jon would never shut up about you, even way before you moved away.”

Olivia’s new wife, Romana, looked back and forth between Jon and Martin, a pleasant smile on her face. “You’re childhood sweethearts? That’s so cute.”

“They were ‘married’ back then,” Olivia announced in a voice that almost sounded smug.

Martin tilted his head to the side curiously. “You knew about that?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Not at first. But after you moved and Jon got all mopey, he ended up mentioning it.” She turned to her wife to add, “They were only like six or seven when they ‘got married’, and now they’re here holding hands twenty years later, so I guess if we have any questions about the married life, we know who to ask.”

Martin could feel his own face start to heat up, but he did his best to not get too flustered. “Ah, we’re not married for real,” he clarified (even though sometimes, in his heart at least, he’d admit that he felt like he was married to Jon). “We’ve only been dating for close to two years, so you two are still the reigning champs of relationships.” It wasn’t until after the words were out of his mouth that he realized what an awkward thing that was to say. “Er, that is, I mean-”

Thankfully, Olivia and Romana both just looked amused. “Thanks. Well, if you ever want to take a crack at the title, make sure that we’re on the guest list.”

He felt his face get even hotter, and didn’t know how Jon was able to speak without sounding nearly as flustered as Martin felt. “We’ll keep you in mind.”

A few seconds of awkward silence passed, and then Martin focused on Romana. “Shall we go get some drinks?” Since Jon and Olivia hadn’t seen each other in a long time, it seemed like a nice idea to give them a few minutes to catch up without their respective significant others listening in.

Romana nodded in understanding. “That sounds like a great idea.” She accompanied Martin over to the bar. There was already a fairly long line, which seemed like a good thing, so Martin didn’t worry. He just looked over when Romana cleared her throat. “You know, it’s kind of strange to actually meet Jon in person. He’s not quite what I expected based on all the stories. You’re the really mysterious one, though. I’ve always wondered- and forgive me if I’m being too nosey- but why did you never write to Jon after you moved away?”

Feeling somewhat embarrassed that Olivia had shared that kind of thing with her wife, Martin shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Oh, it was a- a misunderstanding. I, erm, I wrote the address wrong, so when I wrote, the letters got returned to sender, and I assumed it meant that Jon didn’t want my letters. We sorted that one out pretty much right after reuniting, though.”

Romana gave him a friendly smile. “Childhood friends cut off through a misunderstanding and brought back together as adults. It’s like you’re living out a romance novel.”

Martin thought about all the weird stuff going on, and the times that Jon had been hurt. If this was a romance novel, he’d definitely have more than a few complaints for the author. But of course he wasn’t going to get into any of that with a complete stranger, so he just turned his head to smile sappily in Jon’s direction, and nodded once. “Yeah, I suppose it does seem that way.”

“Seriously, though, the odds of you two meeting up with each other again seem so astronomical. I mean, I get that London is a big city and a lot of people want to move there when they grow up, but that’s just it- it’s a big city. What are the chances that two people out of millions would bump into each other again? It’s like- it’s like fate or something.” Martin wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but whatever it was had Romana quickly backtracking. “Sorry, I know it’s none of my business.” She cleared her throat, and promptly changed the subject. “So what do you do for work?”

Martin did his best to keep a bright look. “I’m between jobs at the moment.” There was definitely no need to mention the fact that he’d been out of work for some time now. “What about you?”

She was kind enough to not sound judgemental as she jumped to answering his question. “I’m a secretary at our local elementary school. It’s actually how Olivia and I met, when she showed up to pick up her sick aunt.”

“Her aunt teaches at your school?”

Romana snorted. “Ah, no, sorry, she was a student. There’s a pretty big age gap between Olivia and her older brother.”

Then they were at the bar and it was their turn to order. Romana got some fancy, complicated sounding drink for herself and a regular beer for Olivia. Martin got a glass of wine for Jon and a shirley temple for himself (he was the designated driver). They returned to their partners, who were in the middle of laughing loudly as they reminisced about some childhood story or another. 

When Martin handed over the wine glass, Jon leaned over and gave Martin an absent-minded little peck on the cheek before turning back to Olivia. Martin saw the knowing look on Romana’s face as his own face got redder, but she didn’t say anything, and just joined in the conversation. After taking a moment to calm himself, Martin did the same.

It wasn’t until much later, after he and Jon had changed into their pajamas and gotten into bed, that Martin found himself having trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t help thinking about what Romana had said, about it seeming like fate that he and Jon had found each other again. In any other circumstance, he’d be pleased with that assessment, but right now, with everything happening the way it was, Martin couldn’t help but feel slightly worried. 

Without even thinking about it, Martin pulled Jon slightly closer to him. What were the odds that he and Jon would stumble across each other the way that they had? It wasn’t even just a single moment of coincidence, but it had been at a pub that both Jon and Tim had frequented for quite some time before Martin had ever stepped foot in the place. Martin wasn’t sure what to think about any of this, but he just couldn’t help worrying about… something.

,,,

Martin and Jon were both relaxing on the couch, the Admiral resting across both their laps, watching some documentary on an endangered species of leopard, when the front door banged open. Both of them jumped a little, then twisted around to see Georgie standing there, looking vaguely disturbed. “Something fucky is going on,” she announced as she entered the flat and kicked the door shut behind her.

Jon frowned. “We’re just watching TV…”

She rolled her eyes and then shook her head. “What? No, not between you two. I mean with that weirdo. The one who came by looking for Jon while he was off on his business trip?” Martin and Jon both nodded slowly and then waited for her to explain. “I saw her outside. She was leaning up against a place across the street, just staring at this building, not moving. I don’t know what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, but it can’t be anything good.”

Jon glanced at Martin, but Martin didn’t know any more than what he’d already told Jon about the incident. It had been freaky and disturbing beyond belief, but that had been several weeks ago, and nothing had happened since then. 

Unable to disguise his curiosity, Jon pulled himself loose from the arm Martin had slung over his shoulders, and went over to the window in the kitchen that was above the sink. He had to stand on his tip toes and lean forward quite a bit to get a good look at the street from that window. Martin went over as well, and peered down.

Even without having seen her before, Martin could immediately spot the one Georgie was talking about. Apparently this woman didn’t even have the shame to leave once she’d been caught, because she just continued to casually stand there, entirely unmoving. If Martin didn’t know better, he’d almost think that there was a new statue down there. 

He glanced at Jon, and saw the way his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. “You said she called herself an old friend of mine?” Even though he was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, since Jon could obviously remember that detail on his own, Martin nodded. 

“Don’t tell me she’s actually a friend of yours,” Georgie said doubtfully.

Jon shook his head immediately, but still looked deep in thought. “No, of course not. It’s just… something about her seems familiar. Like I might have seen her somewhere before, but I can’t remember where. I think… should I go talk to her?”

Georgie’s response was immediate. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Martin reached out to very gently brush his fingers over where he knew the scars on Jon’s back were. “Is it worth the risk?” he murmured. 

Before Jon could answer that very valid question, he startled back. Martin looked back out the window, and saw that between one moment and the next the stranger had vanished- wait, no, she had made it to this side of the street. In such a short amount of time, it didn’t seem possible unless she’d dashed, but she didn’t seem to be panting for breath or particularly sweaty looking, and there had been no honking car horns to indicate the drivers’ annoyance at being cut off by someone rushing across the street. 

Then in the next blink she was gone completely, no matter where Martin looked. He opened his mouth to say something, but in that exact moment, there was a knock on the front door. Georgie, Martin, and Jon all stared at each other with wide eyes. Obviously it was just a coincidence, because there’s no way someone could get from the street to their flat in just a few seconds, but then again, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing Martin had ever seen.

The three of them all moved in careful coordination despite not saying a single word out loud. Georgie grabbed a big knife from the block, Martin pulled out his phone and dialed 9-9-9, ready to hit the call button on a moment’s notice, and Jon took a deep breath in before walking over to the door to answer it. “Hello?”

“You Jonathan Sims?”

It was definitely the same voice from last time, accompanied by that creepy laughter that kind of made Martin want to curl up in a ball and start crying. “May I ask who I am speaking with?”

There was only a brief pause before the stranger answered. “You mean you don’t remember me? I’m hurt, I really am. Then again, I suppose that it is understandable. You never even introduced yourself to me last time before you ran off and left me to play with a much less interesting friend. He was quite mean to me, you know, your friend Michael.”

As the stranger had spoken, Jon’s brows had furrowed deeper and deeper in thought, but as soon as Michael’s name was mentioned, his eyes widened and he let out a soft gasp. “You’re… Lucille?” The name was unfamiliar to Martin, but from the way the stranger let out a loud cackle of laughter, it seemed to be the right answer, and Martin could assume that this had to do with the time that Michael rescued Jon as a child. Jon clenched his hands into fists. “How did you find me, and what do you want with me?”

The stranger- Lucille, apparently- let out another loud laugh. “I just want to talk, there’s no need to act so suspicious about that.”

“How did you find me?” Jon repeated. “You never even got my name, and that was years ago in a different town.”

There was a soft clicking noise against the door, and it took Martin a moment to realize that it was the sound of Lucille tapping long fingernails against the door in an easy rhythm. “Would it make you feel better if I told you a pleasant little lie?”

“Not particularly,” Jon answered through clenched teeth. 

The stranger sped up the rhythm of nail-tapping, going faster and faster, which made Martin’s heart start beating faster as well as the tension amped up. Then the noise stopped abruptly, leaving Martin with an utterly bizarre feeling in his stomach. That’s when Lucille finally spoke again. “No, I suppose a truth-seeker such as yourself wouldn’t prefer a lie. In that case, how about I tell you the truth? It’s much more exciting, to be honest. And perhaps just a little bit beneficial to me. The truth is that I was sent to find you, after being locked away like a prisoner all these years. One day the door was propped open, so I slipped away. Now I’m here as a favor to my captor.”

Jon gulped once, but his voice came out fairly steady. Martin wanted to reach out and take one of Jon’s hands, but his own hands were shaking so badly that he needed both of them just to make sure he didn’t drop his phone. “Who?”

Lucille laughed, and the noise grated against all of Martin’s nerves, making him want to just run away, and never stop running. When he glanced over, he saw that Georgie seemed to be the least affected out of the three of them, which didn’t really surprise Martin. She had always come across as quite a brave person. Then he focused on the door again. If he saw the knob rattle even the slightest bit, he was hitting the call button. “I think you know who it was, my dear, little Jonathan. Who else could it be but your lovely boss, who has had a hand wrapped around your strings for so very long now?”

Without any warning to Georgie and Martin, Jon stomped forward and grabbed the doorknob, yanking the door open much more harshly than he needed to. “Why the bloody hell would-!” Lucille moved quick, so quickly that none of them even saw her move, before suddenly she had lunged forward and bit down into Jon’s arm, deep enough to draw an alarming amount of blood.

While she had her head bent over, Georgie suddenly swung her knife down, jamming it right into Lucille’s neck. The woman let out a choked howl before staggering back, though it was the most bizarre stagger Martin had ever seen. The way she moved without moving, it was just… indescribable. 

He didn’t have time to keep staring, though, because Georgie slammed the door shut and locked it up tight before heading to the bathroom for first aid supplies. 

Jon seemed a bit numb, so Martin took it upon himself to very carefully roll Jon’s sleeve up enough to reveal the bite, which was a perfect imprint of a set of human teeth. Georgie returned with the kit, and her and Martin both gently lowered Jon down onto the couch so they could treat him. “I think I read somewhere that human bites are the most likely to get infected because we have so many germs in our mouths.”

Martin gave Georgie a somewhat annoyed look. “Is now really the time for that?”

She shrugged, but did stay quiet as they wiped away the blood, slathered the wound with disinfectant, and carefully wrapped it with a bandage. Only once they were finished and satisfied that Jon wasn’t going to drop dead did Georgie say, “Jon, I hate to tell you this, but you have the weirdest fucking friends.”


	37. Running Out of Time

Martin followed Jon to work, and felt even more concerned by the fact that Jon didn’t even put up a token protest about how he could take care of himself just fine without any help. At this point, Jon probably didn’t trust his safety to be secured in the Institute, and nobody could blame him for that. Martin didn’t even want to think about just how many times Jon had gotten hurt since he’d first started working there. 

Surely this all had to have something to do with the revelation that Jon was a direct descendant of Jonah Magnus- but what? Martin was too distracted to even blush when Tim waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the sight of Jon and Martin sitting closely together at Jon’s desk. 

If he didn’t know Jon so well, he’d probably think it strange that the man could so easily flip open a few folders and dive right into his work. But Martin knew that it was Jon’s way of distracting himself from everything that was going on lately. Martin had brought along Jonah Magnus’ journals to read quietly to himself while Jon worked, ready to point out anything particularly interesting that he might come across. Before he started reading, he made sure to set an alarm on his phone so that he could make sure Jon took more pain meds at the right time.

They’d been sitting there like that for less than an hour when Martin practically jumped up from his seat at the sound of someone clearing their throat right behind him. He looked up from the journal, and saw Gertrude standing there, looking quite grumpy. “I believe we’ve already discussed this, Mr. Blackwood. The archives are for employees only.”

Jon glanced up from where he’d been busy typing away on his computer, looking vaguely annoyed. “I need him here for medical reasons.”

Gertrude raised one sharp eyebrow. “Oh?”

Jon sighed, then rolled up his sleeve to reveal the bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. “I was injured, and Martin is here to assist me.”

The irritation on Gertrude’s face almost immediately faded away and was replaced by curiosity. “And may I ask what happened? I do hope that it was nothing too serious.”

“A dog bit me,” Jon answered stiffly.

The way that Gertrude looked at him made it clear that she didn’t believe him, but she also chose not to call him out on it. “I see. In that case, I suppose I should be applauding you for your dedication to your work for you to come in after suffering such an injury. Just this once, I shall allow Mr. Blackwood to stay, but be sure not to give him access to any of the documents down here.” It wasn’t until she reached the doorway of her office that she turned back to add, “I do hope you feel better soon, Mr. Sims.” Then she went into her office and gently closed the door behind her. 

After that Martin tried to get back into reading, but it really wasn’t nearly as entertaining when he couldn’t listen to it in Jon’s voice. Jon always read it so dramatically and it was fun. On a side note, Martin wondered if Jon had ever considered reading to children in schools or libraries or something, because he would probably be really good at it.

It was only a little while after that that someone else came down to the basement. “Hey, Jon, Elias said he wants to see you in his office today, as soon as you get a chance to head up.”

Jon exchanged a confused look with Martin, but it’s not like Martin knew why the head of the Institute would want to see Jon. Jon sighed, and then turned back to the woman who’d brought the news. “Let me just save what I’m working on, and then I’ll be right up.”

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can wait to go up with you, if you want.”

Jon shook his head. “Thanks, but that’s alright, you can go on ahead. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for being away from your desk for longer than necessary.” Once she left, Jon turned to look at Martin again. “I’ll be right back. Probably best that you don’t go wandering off anywhere while I’m gone.” Then he stood up and leaned over to press a quick kiss to the top of Martin’s head before leaving the room. 

Martin tried to focus on the journal again, but it was just too difficult when he was also busy worrying about what Elias might want with Jon. He kept glancing up from the pages every few seconds, hoping anxiously that he would see Jon reappear. 

He felt like he’d been bobbing his head up and down about a thousand times before Sasha came over and politely tapped Martin on the shoulder. “I’m sure that he’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. “Why would you ask that? That’s literally the worst question you could possibly ask. I’ve never seen a single instance of that question not immediately leading to the absolute worst possible outcomes.”

Since Martin’s voice rose in pitch as he spoke, it was enough to catch Tim’s attention and draw him over as well. “Look, in this case, I’m pretty sure the worst thing that could happen would be not getting fired, as weird as that is to actually say out loud. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Martin shook his head. “That’s just as bad as asking what’s the worst that could happen.” He abruptly stood up, letting the journal fall onto Jon’s desk. He hadn’t actually taken in more than a few words of it, but he could hardly be blamed for not caring about the words of a two-hundred year old dead guy when he was actively dealing with so much stress. “I’m going to go check on him!”

He started to hurry off, but Sasha reached out to gently snag his arm. “Is that really a good idea?” she asked in a soft voice. “Considering what happened between you, I’m pretty sure that Elias isn’t your biggest fan. And we still don’t even know how he’s connected to anything else other than that he was being weird about Jon that one time. But that was ages ago, and I don’t think he’s even so much as passed Jon in the hallway since then.”

Those words might have been reasonable, but they weren’t enough to calm Martin down. Not when his stupid brain was so good at summoning up all the horrible and grotesque possibilities to what could be happening up in Elias’ office right now. And if Jon was in danger while Martin just sat around down here hanging out, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

So he pulled himself free from Sasha’s very loose grip and shook his head. “I just have to make sure that he’s alright,” Martin insisted.

Sasha let out a soft sigh, but nodded once in clear resignation. “Alright. Just promise you’ll be careful, okay?”

Martin nodded earnestly, then hurried out of the basement, and up to the floor where Elias’ office was located. He peered through the glass window of the door, and frowned when he saw that Rosie wasn’t at her usual place at her desk, which was located in the outer office area. Where was she? A conveniently timed tea break? Or had she been sent away so that she wouldn’t overhear anything unpleasant?

Deciding to take a chance, Martin hoped that he wouldn’t be caught as he slipped into the outer office. He couldn’t be fired again, but he could probably get arrested for trespassing, or something like that, and it’s not like he had a huge savings account sitting around to pay bail money (the only reason he had even a tiny bit of money left was because Jon and Georgie never seemed to expect him to pay rent or chip in for groceries despite living with them full time). 

Martin quietly walked up to the door that had Elias’ name engraved on a pretentious gold plaque, and very carefully leaned forward to press his ear against the door. It was a quality door, made of some thick and expensive wood, but from this close, he was still able to make out the conversation going on inside with only a vague muffled effect over the words. 

“-marked?” Jon’s voice asked dubiously. “What are you talking about?”

Martin could just imagine that greasy, smug smile on Elias’ face. He should have hit that man harder if he was just going to get fired for it either way. “Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about at the moment. I merely meant that with how often you seem to get injured on the job, it’s quite a shame that you don’t have the benefits of the company insurance that would come with a higher ranking position.”

There was a bit of a stilted pause before Jon responded to that. “...Thanks, but I think I’m fine where I am.”

“Hm. You know, Jon, I wasn’t sure about you at first. The way Gertrude hired you so easily out of the blue without any concern about your qualifications, well, I’ll admit that it had me concerned. Especially once I realized how fond you are of… breaking the dress code. But I must admit that having seen some of your work for myself, I believe that I can see what Gertrude sees in you. You are a very intelligent man with a lot going for you. May I let you in on a little secret, Jon?”

Jon’s voice came out so dry it was a miracle that Elias didn’t seem to notice. “Please, do.”

Martin could practically hear the sleazy grin that had to be on Elias’ face at the moment. “It is quite sad to admit, but as Gertrude gets older, I must consider the possibility that she is no longer suitable for her position. Of course I can’t say when exactly she will retire, but when that time comes, I would like to promote you to the role of Head Archivist.”

Martin scowled at the door. He had no idea what Elias was up to, but it couldn’t be anything good when it was said in that kind of tone. He knew that Jon probably agreed with him, but was trying not to outwardly antagonize Elias, so he avoided giving any kind of direct answer. “Why me? Even if we’ve all been working in the archives for the same amount of time, Tim and Sasha have been working in the Institute for much longer than I have. Besides, I like being able to focus on research. It’s… a more suitable task for me.”

The smile in Elias’ voice didn’t sound like it vanished, which meant that he was pretty confident in his ability to convince Jon to accept the offer. “As Head Archivist, you would have the power to hire anybody you’d like to fill the position that you would be leaving vacant.” When Jon didn’t respond immediately, Elias elaborated. “Anyone at all, regardless of their history with this Institute.”

There was a long pause before Jon said, “I see.” There was the sound of rustling fabric, and then Jon cleared his throat once. “I should probably be getting back to work now.”

His footsteps started to come towards the door, and only paused for a moment when Elias added, “Do think on my generous offer. Who knows how long Gertrude has left.”

Martin managed to duck out of the way just as the door opened. Jon spotted him immediately, but didn’t say anything. He just closed the door behind him, then tugged Martin out into the hallway. “How much of that did you hear?”

Martin looked down at the floor sheepishly. “A lot.”

Jon let out a heavy sigh, then took a few more steps forward so that he could slump back against the wall. “I get the bad feeling that if we don’t figure out what’s going on soon, then we’ll lose the opportunity entirely. I don’t know if it’s possible for Elias to fire Gertrude, but if it is…”

He trailed off, then reached up to aggressively yank his glasses off his face and rub at them with the hem of his sweater. Martin looked up and down the hallway to make sure that no one was coming, and then spoke in a low voice. “Jon, I really don’t want-” 

He was cut off when Jon put his glasses back on, only to swear under his breath and yank them off again. Martin reached out to gently take the glasses out of Jon’s hand and wipe them off on his own shirt, then handed them back. When Jon put them back on, he nodded once, then looked at Martin curiously. “If you had the choice, would you want to work here again? Knowing that the archives specifically have so much strangeness going on?”

Martin thought about it carefully before answering. “If it was just about me, then no, I probably wouldn’t want to come back. But it’s not just about me. There’s also you and Sasha and Tim, and figuring out what happened to the previous assistants, and figuring out why you’ve been so cursed since you started working here. Not to mention that the pay is actually quite good and I haven’t been able to find anything else no matter how much I’ve looked.”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “I can’t help but think that that seems like some very intentional incentive to be thrown in my face. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can never tell what will have me walking right into a trap and what will have me subverting it.”

Martin leaned forward and took both of Jon’s hands in his own, making sure to keep his movements very gentle so he wouldn’t agitate Jon’s latest wound. “Hey, whatever it is that’s going on, we’re going to figure it out, alright?”   


Jon only hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I suppose we will. It’s not as though we can give up at this point, so all we can do is keep moving forward. As for this potential promotion- well, I’d rather not think about it for now. Knowing Gertrude, she’s still got quite a few years left before she’ll be willing to get out of the game. We’ve got plenty of time to just relax. Come on, let’s get back to the basement now before the others send a full search party after us.” Martin took a moment to study Jon’s face, making sure that he really was alright, and then he nodded and followed Jon back down the stairs. 

He was so relieved that nothing too terrible had actually happened during that meeting, that it took him a few seconds longer than it should have for him to notice that the journal he’d left behind on Jon’s desk wasn’t there anymore. And not only that, but the bookbag that had been slung over the back of the chair, the one that contained the other two journals, was gone as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this story has reached 100k words! I definitely never planned for it to go on for so long lol. Though it is definitely getting closer to the end.


	38. B & E (Reprisal)

Martin did his best not to outright scowl at Gertrude, but she didn’t exactly make that easy for him. “You’ve been down here the entire time but you have no idea what happened to my entire bookbag?”

He saw out of the corner of his eye that Sasha was awkwardly fidgeting with her hands, and when he gave her a longer look, she sighed guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Martin. I mean, we only stepped out for a few minutes for a break, but we should have planned it better, or gone one at a time, or-”

Martin slowly shook his head. “It isn’t your fault, Sasha. It’s not like I asked you to watch over my stuff.”

“Yeah, but I should have,” she insisted. “Even if it was the least valuable junk in the world, clearly that stuff was important to you, and I should have made sure that it was safe while you were… busy.”

Gertrude watched with an overly innocent look on her face. “I’m sorry, but I still fail to see how this situation has anything to do with me?”

It took a lot of effort for Martin to not say anything that would definitely get him kicked out of the building. He took a few deep breaths, and Jon reached out to gently touch Martin’s arm before carefully answering for Martin. “We’re not accusing you of anything. We were just wondering if you had seen anything suspicious while we were upstairs. Martin’s bag is missing, as well as several valuable things.”

But no matter how long they stood there, they were unable to get any confession out of Gertrude before she retreated into her office and gently closed the door behind her. Martin turned to look at Jon, feeling helpless. “Do you think she hid them in the same place as the letters?”

Jon shrugged. “Maybe. But she also knows that we’ve gotten access to that hiding place before, so maybe not. Maybe…” he trailed off, then glanced over at Sasha, who was still standing nearby looking guilty. “Let’s discuss this more later,” he said quietly enough that only Martin would be able to hear him. 

Martin nodded, and waited patiently for the end of the day to come so that he and Jon could finally head home. He really, really hated that Institute, and he couldn’t wait for the day that he never had to even look at the place again. “So what do you think we should do?” he asked as he flopped down onto the couch.

There was a shifty look in Jon’s eyes before he answered. “Well, I was thinking that perhaps… since we know that Gertrude is very dedicated to her job and never misses a single day of work, perhaps we could break into her house.”

A few seconds passed in complete silence before Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “Beg your pardon?”

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not just about the journals, it’s about everything. She not only stole our childhood letters, but held onto them for years instead of just throwing them away. She was the one who led you to that old Jonah Magnus letter, and the one who gave me the Magnus journals in the first place, so I’m guessing she probably already suspected my ancestry. Not to mention that it was my grandmother’s death that led me to the Institute where Gertrude herself encouraged me to apply for a job, and then all but hired me on the spot. Elias referred to my scars as being ‘marked’- which is creepy enough on its own- but specifically these are scars that many of which were obtained while doing jobs that Gertrude assigned me too. Lucille outright said that she was sent by Gertrude, and that she’s somehow been pulling strings in my life for a while. And considering that I first encountered Lucille almost twenty years ago, long before I knew anything about the Institute or the weirdness of it all, it’s not that hard to believe. No matter how you look at it, it all adds up to something bad, something with Gertrude right at the center of it all.” He let out a heavy breath when he was down, and then slumped over so that he was leaning on Martin’s shoulder.

Martin automatically reached up to wrap his arm around Jon’s shoulders while he thought about what to even say in response to all that. “So you want to break into your boss’ house?” he finally asked. “Just because you can’t quit your job doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t get arrested for breaking and entering her private home. And I don’t even have the partial job security of being in an un-quittable job.”

Jon sighed, then nodded slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. It was a foolish idea. I just wish that I knew of some easy way to get answers to everything. I feel like there’s still so much that we don’t know, and the people who do know something never want to share it with us.”

Thinking of his encounter with Michael, Martin shuddered before pulling Jon slightly closer. “Yeah.” After a few seconds, he tilted his head to rest it on top of Jon’s. “You’re still planning on breaking in Gertrude’s house anyways, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” 

Martin sighed, but didn’t bother to argue. He knew that it was very difficult to stop Jon from doing something once he’d put his mind to it. And besides that, as dangerous as it might seem to do something like this, Martin couldn’t deny that he was just as hungry for answers as Jon was. “What do you think is the best way to go about it?”

Jon thought about it for a few long seconds before responding. “Well, if we try to make a distraction or anything, that would be a dead giveaway. Since she spends all day at work anyways, I’ll just call in sick, and then go during the day. I’ve been to her house a few times before, so it’s not like I’ll have any trouble finding it. I don’t doubt that she’s the kind of woman to keep things hidden away even within her own house, but I’ve got a few ideas about where to search. And if I can’t find anything quickly enough, then I’ll just leave empty-handed, and we’ll figure something else out.”

Martin shook his head. “If you call out sick, and Gertrude figures out that someone was in her house, what do you think the odds are that she’ll make the connection? No, I think that maybe I should be the one to go in. You go to work and go about everything like it’s business as usual, so that Gertrude won’t find it weird that anything is different.”

Somehow Jon managed to press himself even closer to Martin’s side. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Martin immediately froze at the softly murmured question. Actually, he was pretty sure that only time he’d heard Jon use the word ‘love’ in reference to him had been that time he’d snapped at Martin’s mum, and that hadn’t even been directed towards Martin despite being about him. Then he forced himself to relax, and to lean into Jon just as much as Jon was leaning into him. “I love you too,” he whispered back. Though he did feel giddy about actually saying the words out loud, somehow he felt a lot calmer about it than he would have expected of himself. Maybe it was just because he’d felt that way for so long, regardless of whether the specific words had ever been said, or maybe just because he couldn’t help but feel comfortable with Jon, but the words didn’t fill him with over-the-top excitement, but instead a comfortable, content, peacefulness. 

A few minutes passed in a comfortable silence before Jon spoke again. “Martin, I think that we should go into Gertrude’s house together. Whatever we find in there might be too dangerous for just one of us to face alone. And it’s not like I’d be able to get any work done while worrying about you, so Gertrude would probably realize something’s up with me anyways.”

As though he’d expected to come to this conclusion from the first moment Jon had even brought up the idea, Martin nodded. “Alright. We’ll go in together. We should probably wait a few more days, though, so that she’ll let down her guard at least a little bit.” Jon snorted, and Martin rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, it doesn’t seem like she even knows how to do that. But waiting would also be good to give you a bit more time to heal.” They both looked down at Jon’s wrapped arm at the same time. “We wouldn’t want to get caught or have to leave too soon because of some complication.” Jon nodded in agreement, and then the two of them continued to cuddle together on the couch for a while, until Georgie eventually came out and pretended to gag at the sight of them, which earned her Jon sticking his tongue out at her. It broke up the heavy air around them, and made it feel just a little bit easier to breathe.

,,,

The plan kept getting pushed off for one reason or another, until several weeks had passed. Then they finally found a good day to go through with it. Jon went into work like usual, while Martin waited down the street at a little cafe. They were going to have Jon work for a couple of hours, then ‘find’ a statement that needed to be followed up on so that he’d have an excuse to leave for a little while. 

Martin got lost in the weirdly well written trashy romance novel he’d gotten for cheap from a book sale at a nearby library, so he almost didn’t notice when Jon texted to let him know that he was on his way. Martin closed the book and stood up, nodding goodbye to the nice woman at the counter who kept coming by to refill Martin’s coffee.

He only had to wait at his car for a couple of minutes before Jon got there and slid into the front passenger seat. He had to give Martin directions to Gertrude’s house, since Martin had only been there once and it was a while ago. The drive passed by in a jittery silence, both of them excited and nervous for their self-assigned mission.

When they got to Gertrude’s house, Martin parked his car a little off to the side so that any passing neighbors wouldn’t be likely to notice it, and then they headed for the back door. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of asking this before, but how are we actually going to get in?” He watched as Jon picked up a rock from near the door, and laughed. “I never expected Gertrude to be the type to leave a fake rock with a key lying around outside her-” he was cut off abruptly by the sound of shattering glass as Jon threw the rock through the little window next to the door. He carefully reached in to unlock the door, then stepped aside with a slight flourish. “Should I be scared that I’m dating a criminal?” Martin whispered.

Jon just snorted at that. “As if you should talk, Mr. Serial-Killer-Trunk guy.” They both went inside, and split up to cover more ground. It was closer to the end of the day than either of them would have liked, but at least they were safe in the knowledge that Gertrude never went home right on time. She seemed to have being a workaholic built right into her DNA or something. 

Jon went for the bedroom, while Martin went for the study, after Jon pointed the way. He looked around the room, and wasn’t sure whether he should be surprised that the space looked essentially identical to her office at the Institute. He wasn’t here for sight-seeing, though, so he got to work looking around.

He checked for secret floorboard compartments, hidden spaces in the backs of drawers, false compartments, book levers that would activate a secret door, but none of those things appeared to exist in here, or if they did, they were too well hidden for Martin to find them. He also didn’t see any sign of the Magnus journals around, but at this point, those hardly felt like they should take priority. 

As he dug around, looking for anything that might have any kind of relevance to them, Martin found a tape recorder in one of the desk drawers. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen a tape recorder like this. Though he supposed that it did make sense, considering Gertrude’s age, that she might be interested in using this older technology.

Unable to deny his curiosity when he saw that there was a tape already loaded into it, Martin was about to press play. But then he heard the sound of something crashing around above them, and he popped the tape out to shove into his pocket and ran upstairs. 

He found Jon struggling under the weight of several heavy tomes that had collapsed down on him, and he quickly reached out to help pull Jon back up to his feet. “Are you alright? What did you find?”

Jon opened his mouth, but right at that moment there was the shrill sound of a phone ringing. They both hurried to the nearest phone, with Martin silently questioning why Gertrude needed so many landlines scattered throughout her house. 

The name and number displayed on the phone were unfamiliar, but Jon pressed a finger to his lips and waited for the answering machine message to finish so that the caller could potentially leave a message. It was only as Martin looked at the phone that he realized just how late it had gotten. How late did Gertrude stay at work, anyways?

Then there was a beep, and the caller left a message.  _ “Hey, it’s me. I’m obviously calling because you didn’t check in today. And the last time that happened was when, well- you know. I can’t deny that I’m worried. You don’t make careless mistakes like this. Just- just be okay. I’m heading over to your place right now, and if you’re not there, then I don’t- Just be there, okay?”  _ Then the message ended.

Jon and Martin shared the same curious look, but there wasn’t much they could do now. Knowing someone was on their way here, the two of them hurried to put everything back into place and then ran out of the house and back to the car. Whoever came over would probably find the broken kitchen window, but Gertrude would have found it as well, so it’s not like their risk of getting caught had suddenly gone up, especially once they were far enough away to start breathing easily again.

,,,

It wasn’t until Jon called Martin just minutes after stepping into work the next morning that Martin started to worry. Had Gertrude immediately known that they were responsible? “What is it?”

Jon breathed out a heavy sigh, which sounded like a gust of wind over the phone. “Gertrude didn’t come into work this morning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's like maybe one or two chapters left after this, but then it will be caught up with basically where the show starts, and I will be done.


	39. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is shorter than usual, but I'm posting the final chapter as well in just a few minutes. I had planned on making it one longer chapter, but it seemed like it made more sense to split it in two.

The sympathetic look on Elias’ face made Martin feel weirdly itchy. He wanted to reach over and just grab Jon’s hand- and then decided to do exactly that. What reason was there to not take comfort where he could get it? Besides, they were in a room full of people, and most of them were just paying attention to Elias at the front, so it’s not like they were going to judge the pda going on in the middle here. 

Then there was the sound of a throat being cleared up at the front of the room, and Martin finally directed his attention towards Elias. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he already knew that there was a very small list of reasons that Elias would personally invite Martin here, to a meeting that was for all of the employees of the Institute. There was a heavy feeling in his stomach as he waited for whatever was so important that it couldn’t have been stuck into a memo.

Elias cleared his throat once more, as if to make absolutely certain that he had the attention of every single person in the room, and then he began. “As I’m sure that all of you are aware by now, our beloved Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson, has been missing for several weeks now. Last night I was informed of the tragic news that Ms. Robinson has officially been declared dead.” There was a string of hushed gasps from various members of the crowd. Most of them didn’t know Gertrude very well personally, but everyone here knew who she was, and knew that she had been a driving force and familiar face here at the Institute for as long as most of them could remember. 

Somehow seeming pleased by the appropriately shocked murmurs, Elias cleared his throat again- seriously, did he actually have a throat problem going on or something?- and continued speaking. “If it was possible, I would leave her office vacant forever, in order to honor her memory. But every good archive needs a leader, and if we are to have any hope of carrying on Ms. Robinson’s legacy, then her shoes must be filled. I know that that may seem like a daunting task, but I have just the person in mind. Our previous Head Archivist may have never given much thought to her retirement despite her age, but I believe that my choice for her replacement is one she would approve of.” Martin could guess the next words before they were even out of Elias’ mouth. “Jonathan Sims is a dedicated and talented man, and I have every faith in his ability to pick up where Ms. Robinson left off. Jon, if you could come up here for a moment?”

Jon had never actually accepted the hints at this promotion that Elias had started making more and more ever since Gertrude’s disappearance, but he and Martin had both agreed that Elias didn’t seem like the type to give up. And now he was playing his trump card, offering the job to Jon in front of everyone. He could still refuse, as awkward as that would be, but honestly at this point, taking the job was probably their best chance at figuring out what might have actually happened to Gertrude.

So Jon took in a deep breath, squeezed Martin’s hand one last time, then stood up and made his way to the front of the room to join Elias. Despite only being a few inches shorter than the head of the Institute, he somehow looked like he was being vastly dwarfed by Elias. 

Martin was just relieved when it was all over and everyone was dismissed to go back to work. After a few minutes, Martin, Jon, and Elias were the only ones left in the big meeting room. Elias looked at Martin with an unreadable gleam in his eyes. “I know that we did not part on the best of terms, but I would like to put all of that behind us now, for the sake of keeping everything running smoothly around here.” Then he furrowed his eyebrows, as if something had just occurred to him. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it? To sign a new contract and work down in the archives with Mr. Sims?”

Martin quickly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets so that Elias wouldn’t be able to see the way he involuntarily clenched into fists. He had to make an effort not to clench his teeth. “For Jon’s sake,” he agreed. “Where do I sign?” He knew as well as Jon did just what those words meant: that he was agreeing to tie himself to this place for better or worse (probably mostly worse, all things considered). 

The smile Elias gave him sent shivers down his spine. Martin was suddenly reminded of the first time Gertrude had come to offer him a job as one of her assistants. He’d turned it down because of the sense of danger attached to the woman despite her outward appearance, and it had turned out for the best, because he wouldn’t have been able to reconnect with Jon back then if there hadn’t been an open position in the archives. But now, Martin couldn’t help feeling as though it was somehow inevitable that he would end up down there.

He was drawn out of his own morbid thoughts by the sound of Elias’ voice. “There’s no need to be worrying about the little details right away. Why don’t you head down now to familiarize yourself with the place, and get an idea of what you’ll be doing down there, while I chat with Mr. Sims for a little bit about his new job expectations? You can look over your new contract once I’m done showing our new Head Archivist the ropes.”

Martin reluctantly agreed, and headed down to the basement by himself. Sasha and Tim were already waiting for him, happy to show him around (even though he’d already spent quite a lot of time down there over the years), and giving him a better idea of exactly what they did during the day.

Just a few short hours later, Martin found himself sitting in Elias’ office, reading every single bit of fine print on the papers in front of him. He’d probably be best off hiring a solicitor to check everything over more carefully, but he honestly doubted that there were any written clauses mixed in about never being allowed to leave (not to mention that he couldn’t afford the legal help anyways). He double checked one last time to make sure he didn’t see anything overtly suspicious, then he took in a deep breath before signing his name on the dotted line.

,,,

Later, while they were at home- Martin flipping mindlessly through the channels on the television while Jon flipped through the pages of various file folders he’d brought home from work with him, Martin cleared his throat. “Hey Jon?”

“Mn?”

Martin glanced over. Jon’s face was slightly scrunched up in that adorable way it got when he was trying to figure out some difficult problem. “Do you remember the day we broke into Gertrude’s house?” Jon finally looked up from what he was doing, wearing an expression that said ‘how could I possibly forget something like that?’ Martin sighed. “I ended up taking a tape with me. I might’ve left it in my pocket before throwing my pants in the wash. Do you remember seeing a tape floating around in the washer or dryer or something?”  
Jon shook his head. “No. What do you think was on it?”

Considering the sheer amount of questions they still had left, about everything, and the fact that Gertrude always kept herself closed up tight, it didn’t seem likely that the tape was too important. “I dunno. It might’ve just been a personal thing for her. Or maybe just a good mixtape. It’s probably nothing, just forget about it.” Jon nodded absent-mindedly before looking back down at his work, probably having already successfully forgotten about it. That was fine. Martin couldn’t think of anything particularly useful that might have been found on that tape anyways.


	40. Been Together Since the Good Ol' Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted chapter 39 today as well, so make sure to read that one first if you haven't already.

_“The odds are that nobody is ever going to hear this. Or at least nobody of any importance. But I feel that it must be said all the same, if only to remind myself that everything I have done has been for a purpose. It is no small task; you see, I am trying to save the world. And if this ever falls into the right hands, then this duty will be passed to you. I only hope that you are someone who will be able to handle it._

_Many years ago now, I sent my intern to follow up on a particularly bizarre statement- or, no, perhaps I need to go back even further for you to fully understand, if my listener is who I hope you are._

_A few years back even further than the intern, I was trying to complete a little self-assigned project. I was curious about the founder of this Institution, especially after discovering evidence that the Magnus bloodline did not end with Jonah. It was just a little while after Elias Bouchard became the head of the Institute, and I had reason to suspect that there might be something worth looking into. It took more digging and persistence and endless questioning than I care to get into, but the point is that I eventually found the information that Magnus himself had never located. From there it was fairly easy to trace the line to modern day- too easy, in fact. I found an old newspaper clipping referencing a family curse, and I don’t find it too difficult a thing to believe, all things considered. I did not understand what other explanation there could be for the many tragic deaths that littered the family, as well as the fact that there was only one child of each generation, up until a woman named Isabelle Sims, who is around my age._

_My curiosity got the better of me, and I allowed myself to follow up on the mystery. So I followed up, only to discover more tragedy. Mrs. Sims’ son had just recently died, before he got the chance to meet the child his wife was pregnant with. I questioned her briefly, but she was not part of the Magnus line, and seemed to know nothing of it, so I gave up. I went to Isabelle for answers instead, but she refused to see me, still grieving the loss of her child._

_So I left with my questions, and returned to London. I did my best to keep an eye on the family for a little while after that, especially once I learned that the younger Mrs. Sims had passed away, but eventually life got in the way, and the lives of Magnus’ descendants slipped my mind._

_Up until the day my intern reported that while following up on a statement, he encountered a rather fascinating boy. One who just so happened to live in the area that Isabelle Sims’ resided in, and who just so happened to share the name of the youngest member of the Magnus family._

_Reinvigorated, I threw myself back into my previous investigation of Jonah Magnus, only this time, I came across a few things that I didn’t fully understand, but I knew were not good at all. I put together some clues, and realized that there is so much more to this world than I had ever thought. I felt foolish for not putting it together sooner. For not realizing my own possible role in all of this._

_If you are the one I am hoping you are, then I suppose that you are going to await an apology from me when I say that I directed a certain arachnid book towards the Sim household. I will not apologize, though. As difficult as it probably is for you to believe, I was- and still am- doing what I believe is right. What is the happiness and comfort of one boy compared to the fate of the entire world?_

_For you see, I may know the truth about many things, though I am aware that there is still much more that I may never learn. What I do know, though, is that Jonah Magnus did not die two hundred years ago. But that he has indeed set things in motion that will destroy the world. I’m ashamed to admit just how long it took for me to figure out any of the more specific details._

_But I knew enough by the time I was reminded of Jonathan Sims, so I sent him that book to launch what I suppose could be considered his destiny, though there is nothing choosing him beyond his blood relation to an old man who was too afraid of death to accept it. I knew that there was a plan to invoke a ritual that will bring about the end times. I was hopeful- I still am- that I correctly figured out the best countermeasure._

_Magnus needs someone marked by all of the entities to begin his ritual to end the world. I believe that the way to stop him is with someone carrying his blood who is marked by all. If I was still a younger woman I might feel some guilt for my actions, but as it is, I am content knowing that I am doing everything I can to save the world. What could possibly be more important than that?_

_Obviously Isabelle Sims was already too old to withstand the trauma, so the job fell to Jonathan instead. The Web was his first, but certainly not his last. I could only do so much without losing the element of surprise, though, so after that I had to bide my time. Then a new opportunity arose. From everything I’d seen, Jonathan was a shy boy who had difficulty making friends. So to take away the one he was closer to than anyone else, I thought it would surely pave a path into the Lonely for him._

_It wasn’t until several years later that I was approached by Isabelle Sims. She was wildly upset, claiming that something was following her. I took her statement personally, many different suspicions running through my mind. In a moment of inspiration, I showed her the letters that I had held onto throughout the years, always with the hunch that they would come in handy. If I wanted Jonathan to be further marked, then I needed to draw him to my doorstep._

_I had hoped that Isabelle would tell Jonathan about the letters, and therefore send him my way, if only to confront me. When she died before she could say anything, I made sure that she had one of my cards on her, hoping that Jonathan’s natural curiosity would take care of the rest. And I was right. He walked right into my trap, and I couldn’t even feel guilty for springing it around him._

_I offered him a job, even knowing that it ran the risk of putting him onto Elias’ radar. But it was the easiest way to guarantee that he would stay at the Institute long enough for me to finish what I had already started. I’ll admit that certain instances came down to luck, such as the discovery that apparently I had two missing assistants and no memory of them. When one of them approached me after that, it was easy to pretend I knew her, and I asked her for a small favor. I used connections that I had saved up for rainy days, pushed people into their places, slipped money into certain hands. Whatever it would take to make sure that Jonathan Sims would be marked fourteen times over before I was caught at the game._

_Unfortunately, I have still not gotten as close as I would like, and I fear that time is running short for me. Well- fear is a funny word, isn’t it? The longer that I talk, the more certain I am that the only person who will ever hear this is the one person who would never wish to help me in my quest. I wonder if you feel fear the same as the rest of us. I wonder how it feels for you to know that you have probably made a terribly foolish mistake. Because I can assure you, Sasha was never actually the one I wanted to replace me. I assume that you were petty about it, so you really have no one to blame but yourself if things turn out the way that I plan._

_I can imagine the circumstances that would lead to you listening to this recording. And yes, you could just kill him too. But wouldn’t that be such a waste, when he’s already got so many marks? I’d think your competitive streak would mean you want to prove that your plan will succeed over mine._

_Besides that, can you really bring yourself to kill family? Don’t forget that the only reason I so thoroughly ruined his life is because he is related to you._

_Anyways, I think that I have rambled on enough for today. I hope that it will be many years before anyone ever listens to this, but I am not truly optimistic of that. Whenever the day comes that this tape is played, whether for its intended audience or not, I know that I will be long gone. But whether my words have filled you with fear or not is irrelevant- all that matters is that I have set things into motion. Good luck ending the world with the one person who is capable of stopping you.”_

There was a click as the tape ended, and several long moments of silence passed. There was an unusual lack of background noises around them, no distant screaming or cars honking, or any of the other horrible noises that they had become used to throughout their journey. It made the silence feel overwhelmingly loud, and Jon and Martin reached out to take hold of each other’s hands at the same time, both of them needing the feeling of being anchored to the other.

Martin cleared his throat, but didn’t really know what to say. Jon looked over at the nearest window, looking out into London. The city was unrecognizable compared to what it had been before, and it was Jon’s fault. They had gone into this already having so many questions, suspecting so many things, and yet he had still played right into Elias’ hands. 

But now- now they knew the truth. There had always been a way to stop this from happening. A way sitting like a little bomb in Elias’ desk. “I wonder why he didn’t destroy it,” Martin finally murmured. “He had to know that we might find it someday.”

Jon laughed somewhat bitterly. “Based on our past performance, I suppose I can’t really blame him for thinking that there was no chance of that happening. We really were so clueless, weren’t we?” He heaved out a long sigh, then gently tugged on Martin’s hand as he walked over to the window, carelessly stepping over Elias’ body laid out on the expensive carpet. 

They stood together and looked out at the nightmare world that had been created. Then Jon looked down at their linked hands, specifically at the burn scars on his own. “Do you think she was right?” Martin asked, even though he knew that Jon was probably already thinking the same thing.

Another few moments passed in silence, and then Jon finally looked up at Martin, his determination clear. He had started this whole mess, and he would end it, too. “Gertrude was a shockingly wise woman. Cold, but ultimately correct more often than not.” Then he suddenly slumped over slightly, most of his weight supported by Martin. “God, all the worst things that ever happened to me have been all her fault. Even the things that Elias can be blamed for wouldn’t have happened to me if Gertrude had never dragged me into this mess.”

“I hate her,” Martin said with absolute certainty. “For putting you through all that pain and misery.”

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “You heard the tape. She didn’t have many other options.”

“What if she was wrong, though?” Martin dared to ask in a quiet voice.

A few seconds passed, and then Jon straightened up and looked Martin right in the eyes. “She wasn’t,” he declared firmly. “She ruined my life because of something as arbitrary as my DNA, but not without reason. She knew how to end all this. How to use _me_ to end all this. And now, thanks to that tape, I know how too.”

Martin’s eyes widened in surprise. “If there was an answer, why couldn’t you Know it before?”

“When I tried to look before, I only had vague, general ideas to search for. But now I have a concrete detail to look into, my blood connection to…” he glanced over at Elias’ body in disgust, then looked back at Martin. “Nothing will ever go back to ‘normal’ again. I don’t think it’s possible. But they can change to not be this anymore. Are you with me?”

There was a fond smile on Martin’s face. After everything, did Jon even need to ask anymore? But he answered all the same. “Of course. I’ve been with you since the very first day we bumped into each other.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Hey, Jon? When this is all over, can we revisit the marriage discussion?”

It took Jon a moment to remember what Martin was talking about. He wanted to laugh at the version of himself from back then, from that day when he’d told of Martin’s mum. The him who thought that marriage was too big of a commitment. Considering everything that they’d been through together, it was such a ridiculous notion that he nearly laughed out loud. But instead he just leaned forward to give Martin a quick kiss, then pulled away and nodded once. “Sure. But to be perfectly honest with you, I’ve been married to you in my heart since we were six years old.”

Martin felt his face warm up a lot, and knew he had to be quite red. He cleared his throat a few times before he was able to say anything. “Oh, remember that dress you wore? You looked so cute in it.”

Jon’s face heated up as well as he remembered exactly what Martin was referencing. “We did make a promise to each back then. That we’d be together forever. It would be a shame to break that promise now.”

The grin on Martin’s face was big enough that it practically hurt to wear it, but he didn’t care. How else could he express the sheer amount of joy coursing through him. “Yeah, it would be a shame.”

After a while longer, they eventually wandered back over to the door of the office, not paying the cooling body on the floor any mind. They kept their hands tightly holding each other’s, and Jon glanced at Martin. “Martin Blackwood, are you ready to save the world with me?”

Martin nodded, feeling giddy. “Jonathan Sims, it would be my honor.” Then, still holding hands, they made their way out of the building and on to the street. They started walking, never once letting go of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so it turns out I lied. Despite how many times I said I would leave it where canon begins, I just couldn't resist giving this story a hopeful ending. Especially since we all know that canon isn't going to oblige us with that. 
> 
> Anyways, this has been such an amazing journey writing this! It's been nearly a year since I started, and I never expected anyone to like it enough for me to keep going with it for this long. Originally it was supposed to be a short story about childhood friends, but then it grew into this monster instead, and I can't say I'm sorry for that. Thank you so much to everyone who has been so kind and encouraging along the way. I always had a blast reading everyone's theories for what would happen next, and I hope that even though I didn't answer every question, this explanation was satisfying enough. Gertrude's ultimate plans for Jon is something that I've been planning for a while. As for what really happened to the assistants and why the Magnus line was kept trimmed like that... well, some things are best left a mystery xD
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who has read this story! I have really enjoyed writing this, and interacting with all of you. 
> 
> So now, in the classic way of putting it...
> 
> The End


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